Crossroad of Fate
by Lady Healer
Summary: What if the elves of Middle-Earth still live among us… What changes would their presence bring to the wizardry world? A Harry Potter Lord of the Rings crossover.
1. Chapter one: The boy who lived, gone

_Disclaimer: __I own nothing._

_Well, this is my first attempt at a Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover. _

_Please be nice and give it a chance._

_Well, enjoy the story!_

_-Lady Healer._

Chapter one: The boy who lived, gone. 

There are times when crossroads meet, and a single action at that junction can change the course of fate. Rarely do such opportunities occur within the Ages. Yet even fewer persons recognize the chance. Often they chose to believe that one person could not make such a change. 

The beings of today had found themselves lost in a whorl-wind, forgetting the effect that each creature had on the fabric of Time. Some were too ignorant in the ways of the world to see it, believing that higher status had more power, the most influence in the affairs of humankind. 

Yet, that was only a half-truth. Power did come with rank, but did not mean that it would influence the weavings of fate. 

Time: a concept that deluded many beings' mind. Time was more then the hours in a day, or the months of a year. It played guardian to the secrets of our ancestors. It is our ally and enemy as we walk on the earth in the present. And time is our hope as we open the blank pages in the book of the future. 

And each decision that is made, weaves a strand into the fabric of Time. Some of these threads end shortly after then had begin, but others grow until they intertwine with other yarns combining, causing revolutions in the future. 

One such tapestry formed when Isildur chose to keep the One Ring, despite all pleas to destroy it. The pull from it had remained strong for many years until it finally faded when the ring was cast back into the fires of Mt. Doom. 

But another tide began building on the horizon of the Third Age. When the time of the elves ended and the race of man was left to rule. It was at that time when a crossroad met. The elves had a choice: to heed the call of the sea and sail to the Grey Heavens or to remain in middle-earth for their immortal lives. 

Many of the elves did listen to the sea's siren song. Through the years the mortal races of the world forgot the First-Born as their history faded into myth. But as hidden in the background as they were, the elves still subtly kept men from destroying the world around them. The eldar became silent guardians, watching the new children of the world forge a path of their own. Many years passed and magic dimmed to a faint memory; until a new age of magic began and mortals learned to channel wizardly magic. 

The elves watched as a school of magic was built outside the borders of the last existing elvish home. It was there that they witnessed the rivalry sour between the four houses of Hogwarts. And throughout the years the First-Born observed both good and corrupt magic users walk the school's halls. But there was one line that the eldar kept close watch of: the descendants of Aragorn. 

They had kept close tabs on the king's kin, silently protecting them when danger became too great. The line had long forgotten the Old Days and was unaware of its guardians. But the strength of old had stay strong within the line, despite everything. But even the best protection cannot last forever and the line of kings was left with one last heir before it too disappeared from the world. 

And so on a cool fall night, a lone elf stood draped in the shadows of Privet Drive watching as an old man dressed in a robe with a purple cloak appeared at the end of the street. The man with half-moon spectacles fumbled in his pockets for an item for several moments before he paused. He looked around before his gazed stopped on a tabby cat and chuckled, slightly amused. 

"I ought to have known." Again the man searched his pockets for the desired item, and this time he found it. Flipping a lid on a silver cigarette lighter open the old man held it up in the air and clicked it, causing the nearest light to go out. After several clicks the street was plunged into darkness. No human could have seen through the night. 

The lone elf narrowed his blue eyes at the two. He had been waiting for them to arrive; yet as the elf studied the group, the being noticed that the most important member had yet to arrive. 

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." The old man said as he turned and smiled at the cat that was no longer a cat, but instead a severe-looking woman with square glasses resting on her nose and emerald cloak around her shoulders. 

"Are the rumors true, Albus? About what finally stopped him?" The elderly man did not answer as he placed a lemon drop into his mouth. A brief silence pass between the two before the witch sent a sharp glance at the wizard before continuing, "What they're _saying_ is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are- are- that they're- _dead_." 

Albus Dumbledore bowed his head and McGonagall gasped. And though the two magic users did not see, the elf in the shadows had also bowed his head in sorrow. And for a brief moment the others' conversation faded from his mind. 

They had failed to protect the last of the king's kin. They knew that the current dark lord was after them, but the eldar had learned of the Potters plan to go into hiding by use of the Fidelius Charm with Sirius Black being the secret keeper. 

It was a good plan with few flaws; Sirius would not betray them. And so the elves aided the Potters by protecting their secret keeper, yet Voldemort had found them anyways. The only way he could have done so was if the secret keeper divulged their location, which meant that the Potters had switched the keeper at the last moment. And the knowledge that they failed to protect the last of Estel's line had bereaved many of the elves. 

But a rumor had reached their ears that one of the Potters lived through the attack. The young infant child had managed to survive and felled the Dark Lord. The elves knew in their very souls that this would not be the last the world saw of Voldemort and thus they had agreed that they would take the child under their own protection. 

"You don't mean- you can't mean the people who live here?" The cry of the Professor McGonagall drew the elf from his thoughts. "Dumbledore- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here?"

The elf silently snorted, knowing that the relatives were worst then what the woman let on. Their scouts had come and studied the new branch of Estel's kin the day after James Potter married and decided that Lily was the only kind and worthy one among them. The elves knew if the child were raised here, he would know no loving family, for his relatives despised magic. 

But the elf remained silent as Albus began talking to his companion. 

"It's the best place for him. His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter." 

'And be treated no better then a slave' the first-born thought before the elf listen to the woman's faint complaint. 

"A letter? Really Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous- a legend- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future- there will be books written about Harry- every child in our world will know his name!" 

"Exactly," Dumbledore replied. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he'd ready to take it?" 

Again the elf silently snorted. Dumbledore was correct in theory, but he had forgotten the Dursleys' mannerisms. Their having custody of the child may cause the boy to crave affection or to shy away from attention and neither option would help the child when he would enter the wizarding world. 

The eldar had neither faith nor warmth for the people who slept at number four, Privet Drive. The elf allowed the staff members' conversation to fade from his mind as he listened to a distant sound. Looking up into the dark sky, a small smile graced his lips as he spotted the last arrivals come in for a landing. 

Finally, after waiting all day, the being he came for had arrived. As the giant man got of the motorcycle with a small bundle in his arms, Dumbledore said, a note of relief coloring his voice, "Hagrid. At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?" 

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir." Hagrid replied. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir." 

The elderly man smiled briefly, before he asked, "no problems, were there?" 

"No, sir- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol," answered Hagrid. 

Silently, the elf stayed in the darkest shadow watching the Hogwarts staff members as they continued talking among themselves, until, the time came for them to say goodbye to their small charge. After whispered goodbyes, the three adults left the infant on the doorstep of number four for his aunt to find him in the morning. 

But she never would find the tiny bundle. Perhaps if the trio had known that they would have chosen a different path, but no one can tell. Slowly the elf drifted out of the shadows and into the light of the relit lamps towards the child. 

The first-born knelt beside the young boy, gently picking him up while pocketing the letter. The infant stirred slightly, turning, as his eyelids fluttered slightly. With a soft tenor voice the elf whispered soothingly to the child in the Sindarin tongue, luring the child back to peaceful dreams. 

Another smiled graced his lips before he quietly said, "Let's go home, king's son." The elf walked down the street and disappeared into thin air. 

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                        _Hopefully everyone has enjoyed the chapter and I apologize for it being short. The next chapter should be longer._

_Like? Hate? Let me know please!_


	2. Chapter two: Coming home

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_So, without further ado I present you with the next chapter!_

Chapter 2: Coming home.

Rarely as the ages pass, does anything remain unchanged. Not stone or even water are untouched. Everything feels its passing, if only in the smallest ways. Mountains crumble and forests wither, yet such things are not fixed in mortal memories. Nor do they remember the hard learned lessons of the past, or of the battles fought to retain their independence. 

The Second-born were blessed with freedom from such memories. Or perhaps it was a curse of ignorance, for many times they had to learn the same lessons over again. 

Yet despite all the changes that had occurred over time, some things stilled remained the same. The sun still rose in the morning and gave way to the moon and stars at night. And the birds sang their cheerful songs in greeting of a new day. Many times, it had been these small, ever present aspects of life that gave comfort to the First-born as the rest of the world continued to change. 

Throughout the ages, the eldar had found themselves thrown into many different roles. There were times, when they could return to the positions that they held before Middle-Earth was forgotten. And that was true for the three elves that knelt on a talan hidden in the upper branches of a tree growing on the inner border of their current home. 

Draped in grey cloaks, the three elves watched the ground below, waiting for their kindred to return with Elessar's heir. Each of the elves had a bow and quiver resting on their backs as well as a sword. They were considered old weapons today; something that collectors would crave to have and the art of actually using them had faded to hobby. 

Yet, the elves stilled wielded them throughout the ages in their forest home. The eldar had slowly become disgusted with the methods that the Second-born now used in battles. The skill and disciple that once lay behind each weapon was lost. The majority of men now preferred methods that took little to no skill. And thus the elves had watched as the pride and dignity left in men were forgotten. The blood of Numinor was spent. 

The leader of the trio scanned the area once more, checking for any possible dangers. Their lord had sent them here to insure the heir's safety during the journey. Dangerous beings still lurked within the forest despite the eldar's best effort to keep it purged. There was a time before evil had invaded when the forest was known as Greenwood the Great. Later after it had been cleansed, it was renamed Eryn Lasgallen. But, now, as before evil lived in the forest, and it held the name Mirkwood; except to the order of men who called the woods the Forbidden Forest. 

And the elven leader felt that name was fitting, for it was forbidden to the race of man. The few humans that had dared enter the woods had ended up dead. Their careless actions had brought many of the dark creatures' attention to them. 

Again he scanned the area and this time his blue eyes stopped on a figure that was walking silently towards them. Most beings would have missed the figure as he blended easily with the trees; but not many in the world were elves. He was almost certain he knew who the being was, but he signaled his companions to draw their bows anyways. He had not kept his home safe for millennia by being careless, nor would he begin such practice now. 

The figure materialized from the shadows and the First-born caught sight of the grey elven cloak that hid the person's identity. But seeing the garments of his people told him enough as did the small bundle in his arms. A small smile graced his lips as he called out his greetings. 

"Glorfindel, Mae govannen!" Glorfindel looked up into the trees before him, his keen sight spotting his kindred. "Hail and well met, Haldir! I see it is you and your brothers which are too be my escort, which Lord Celeborn had agreed to send." 

The three Marchwardens had already put away their bows at the return greeting and swiftly climbed down from the talan. Stepping towards the elder elf, Haldir studied the small infant in his arms quietly. 

"So, this is Aragorn's heir." Not bothering to wait for Glorfindel's confirmation, the Silvan greeted the sleeping child in Quenya, "Elen sila lumen omentielvo, (A star shines on the hour of our meeting.) Harry Potter." The captain of the Marchwardens smiled when he heard his brothers echo the greeting to the infant boy. 

A smile was shared between the four elves as the small boy made soft cooing sounds in his sleep. But as quickly as the moment came, it was gone as they began to focus on the task before them. They had to get the child to the city, where he would be safest from the evil that wished to harm him. 

"We have delayed to long, we must continue. There are still several hours left before we will reach the city." Haldir said firmly. The other elves nodded in agreement and followed without complaint. 

For many hours the elves traveled in silence and soon, above the branches of the trees, the morning sun kissed the horizon in preparation for another day. The closer the eldar came to their home, the more the forest changed. The woods became less dark; the trees grew less thickly and less threatening and the surrounding plants became greener and shown with health. The elves continued to travel over a bridge, the water flowing dark and swift beneath. Briefly the four stopped as the gates to their home opened allowing them access. 

No stranger could enter or leave through the gate, for magic sealed it. And it was because of the magic that protected their home that they could not appear directly in their home. But the elves were happy with that arrangement, since they preferred to walk amongst nature to begin with. As they entered their home they smiled at the small group that had gathered to welcome the new child. And out of the small gathering a dark haired elf walked up to Glorfindel, his twin not far behind, and silently with his grey eyes he asked a question. 

The golden haired elf handed the sleeping child to him. With a smile, the dark stranger gently brushed the wisp of bang from the infant's face, whispering, "Welcome home, nephew." 

And during the time the elves began to settle the small child into his new home another was settling in her new home in Little Whinging, unaware that what she would discover that day would change the path the wizardry world took beyond anyone's expectations.

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Well, that was chapter two. Hopefully everyone had enjoyed it, despite its shortness. In all likelihood, the next couple of chapters will be short as well. I'm still setting a couple things up in the story, but once all the pieces are on the board, lengthier chapter should follow. 

Author note as of 2/1/04 

_Hi. This update was used mainly to correct some small grammar mistakes in chapters one and two. However, I am working on chapter 3, though I am not sure when it will be out. The chapter is taking me longer to write then I first thought, mostly because I am going back and doing research for both series. Hopefully, you can forgive the wait. _

Till next time!

Like? Hate? Let me know, please!


	3. Chapter 3: Missing hope

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Chapter 3: Missing hope.

Conflict: the clash of wills between people. It was a problem, which had plagued the world since the beginning of time. No one was free of it, nor could anyone escape it. It was a trap that lay in wait among the shadows until a being stumbled into it. 

And every creature had stumbled over its rocky path at some point in their life … some more than others. The problems that had caused these conflicts between the races of the world differed greatly and were unique to each person. But many times through the ages of the world, one being's problem became the crisis of many. 

Yet, there were many conflicts that stayed hidden from the eyes of history and the press. This was true for many of the troubles that the eldar had to deal with over the millennia. Such problems had occurred when too few elves were left in Arda to defend their homes and the elvish kingdoms were force to unite under one banner. 

Many arguments had broken between the divisions of the race for many years. And for a time the four elvish kingdoms lived in separate fractions of the same forest, depending on the other only for defense. But as the years passed, heated words were forgiven and new friendships were formed while the old relations were strengthened. 

As the ages passed, a balance formed between the Elven kingdoms and new laws were created and slowly a system began to form, causing the first-born to gradually combine into one kingdom. A progress, which started when the citizens of Rivendell joined with their kindred from Lothlorien under the rule of Celeborn, while the kingdom of Mirkwood and Ithilien, joined under the rule of their own royal house. It was many ages later when the two elven kingdoms united under one banner, jointly ruled by two elven lords with their own districts to govern. 

And even in the present day, fiery arguments existed between the ruling lords of the last elven home. Something which the dark-haired elf noted with slight amusement as he walked out of the meeting hall, the small infant child sleeping contently in his arms. An hour had passed since the young boy had been brought into elven care and already he was a subject of much debate. 

It had been many centuries since a child had run through the halls of the elven home and various people had different opinions on how the boy should be raised. Even, at first, who should raise him. 

It was first suggested that Celeborn should raise the child, being the boy's grandfather no matter how many generations removed. Yet the elf-king declined the offer, stating that he believed that his grandsons should rear the child for the very reason that the twins could balance each other out. And the former lords of Rivendell were happy to agree to those terms. 

Turning the corner, the dark elf glided down the corridor until he reached the door of his chamber. He had left the meeting early, but both he and his brother agreed that they had heard enough and it was time for the child to sleep in a real bed. His twin had agreed to inform him of what occurred after he had left. As it was, it was decided that until the boy was ready to face his destiny he would be known under a different name, a name that would be given at a later time. 

Opening the door, he crossed the richly furnished room to stand by the bed and gently tucked the child within its silken comfort. It would be a few hours still before the young boy's room was ready for him. And the son of Elrond knew that his brother would check his own quarters first. 

Quietly he sat down on the bed beside the child, watching the infant as he did so. With a soft smile gracing his lips, the dark elf gently brushed the wisp of bangs from the child's face, the action bringing back memories of long ago. Of when his sister Arwen was still alive and had just given birth to her and Aragorn's son, Eldarion. He could still remember his siblings' joyful pride as they held their newborn for the first time. It was a day that was forever etched in his memories. 

Sighing, the elf tore his gray eyes away from the infant's face. He missed his siblings sorely, and thought often of the small adventures that his foster brother, his twin, and he went on throughout Aragorn's youth. Of competing against them, whether or not it was in jest. And he missed the sweet smiles that his sister would flash him when she was trying to con him into doing something that he knew he would regret later. 

With a shake of his head, the elf focused his attention back to the infant as small sounds reached his ears. And with the slow fluttered of the eyelids from the child, the dark stranger realized that the small being was about to wake. A wistful smile graced his lips as he watched the child's eyes open to reveal a brilliant emerald green. It was a sad event, which had brought the boy into their care, yet he could not deny the joyful feeling at being an uncle once more. 

Slowly, with a slight stretching of his limbs, Harry woke, laying in the bed quietly, staring at the vaulted ceiling in wonder. As the moments of silence lengthened, the infant's gaze shifted, traveling around the room with curiosity. Eventually, his eyes stopped on the being sitting next to him; slightly the child tilted his head in wonder. 

With a slight nod, the elf smiled at the child, and greeted him softly, "Good morning, young one." 

For a moment, the two stayed like that, each looking at the other as if time had stopped, until the child grew bored with starring at the new companion and began to roll on to his stomach, stopping when his hand came into contact with the blankets. Briefly, Harry rubbed his hand across the silk, feeling the new texture. A few moments later the child grew bored with the blankets and pushed himself into a sitting position, looking around the room once more. 

"Mama," Harry cooed softly, before he paused again, hitting the blankets below him with little fists. Again, the child looked around the room, his eyes searching. "Mama." 

Closing his gray eyes, the elf felt a sorrow touch his soul for the child before him. How could he tell him that his parents were not coming, when he was too young to understand death? It was like explaining air to a fish. 

Harry's bottom lip began to tremble, as the comforting presences he sought remained absent. Again the child called out, a quaver in his voice, "Ma… ma." Slowly, the eldar reached out and drew the child into his arms, pausing briefly when the child began to cry in earnest. Pillowing the boy on his chest, the stranger began to gently rock back and forth, humming softly over the infant's vocal cries. 

The child was scared and confused, not knowing why his parents did not come like they always had before. The elf was unsure of how to handle the situation, or how he could get the youngling to feel safe. As the elf continued to rock the child, he remembered a lullaby his parents used to sing to his siblings and himself when they were scared. 

Closing his eyes, he began to hum a different tune as he recalled the song. Remembering how his mother would take him into her arms, swaying from side to side, almost dancing, and her soft voice would sing gentle things to him. His father would add harmony to her melody as he held his other siblings. 

He could remember feeling secure and loved as he felt his fears melt away. He missed his parents dearly, their loving smiles and their warm embraces, even the scolding they gave him whenever he got into trouble. Yet, the elf took comfort from the fact that his parents were together again in the Grey Heavens. 

And he hoped he could give the child in his arms just as much love and security as his parents had given him when he was a young elfling. Gently, the dark-haired being began to rub the child's back in small circular motions as he started to sing, reverting back to the Sindarin tongue. 

  
  
"*Beams of light shine from heaven above  
Guiding travelers too and from.  
From Sunset to Sunrise they light my path,  
Until at last the way is found  
And safe in my arms you, once again, dwell.

  
  
Rest your head against my pillowed shoulder, child,   
And allow night's melody to soothe your fears.  
Starlight will be your guide this night  
As you wonder through elven dreams.*"

  
  


Slowly the elf allowed the last note to die as he paused to remember the next stanza of the lullaby, continuing to rub the child's back as he did so. Still humming the familiar notes, the stranger looked down at the quieting child in his arms and smiled. The young boy rested his head against the elf's chest and was staring up at him. As he smiled at the infant again, the eldar noted the presence that had entered the room. 

Silently the aura crossed the room, coming to a stop before them, commenting, "Good morning, Elrohir, little Harry." 

Looking up, Elrohir nodded a greeting to his twin, spotting the bottle that his brother was holding as he did. Another smile graced his lips as he switched the squirming child's position, so the boy was laying more on his back as his brother gave the bottle of milk to Harry. 

As the human boy drank his milk, Elladan smiled briefly to his brother before he began to sing the rest of their parents' lullaby.

  
  
"*And through the night I shall stay  
To ward the shadows away till only warmth remains  
In the battle, starlight will be my ally  
Until shadows flee and the sun rises.

  
  
Golden light will spread across the land,  
A message of hope and happiness upon its wings.  
And at its touch you shall wake  
With joyful spirits near at hand.*"

  
  


After the last note faded into darkness, he sent another smile to Elrohir.  "I heard you singing the lullaby when I was walking towards your room, yet I didn't hear you finish it." 

"I had trouble remembering the last verses," Elrohir replied. For a moment a comfortable silence passed between the brothers as they watched the feeding child with smiles. Sighing, Elrohir looked at his twins, his gray eyes serious. "What was decided after I left the meeting, Elladan?" 

"Only a few things were settled before we heard the child crying and the meeting was adjourned with the agreement that it would continue after Harry is settled in his new home." Sitting next to his brother on the bed, Elladan continued, "What was decided, however, was that it _will_ be us who raise Harry. Grandfather had managed to get some of the more… _stubborn_…" Elladan ignored his brother's snort, "…elves to stop arguing the point by the end of the meeting." 

Pausing, Elladan looked down at the young child and the scar that adorned his forehead. "It was also decided that until it is time for Harry to face his destiny, his identity will be hidden from all of the Younger Children, including from Harry himself. His scar will have to be concealed." 

Nodding, Elrohir asked, "How are they going to hide the scar? It can't be mended. Elven medicines may help it fade but they can't remove it, nor can magic. Curse scars never fully heal, the council knows this." 

"They do," his brother agreed. "They have resolved to allow medicine fade it and carefully add new scaring in order to change the shape." 

"Hiding it in plain sight," Elrohir nodded. And for several minutes the two brothers stayed there sitting in silence as they watched the young child, each lost in their own thoughts. "Estel." Elrohir quietly said. Looking at his brother, Elladan raised one eyebrow in question. 

Smiling lightly, Elrohir said with a slight nod towards the infant in his arms, "Nicholas Estel Green." 

Elladan shared his brother's smile as he caught the meaning behind the name and nodded in agreement. They had found Harry's new name.

  
  
************************

The world was shattered. His world was shattered. They were supposed to be safe. The ruse should have worked. Voldemort should have come after him, thinking he was the secret keeper; his friends would have remained safe. The dark lord couldn't force information from him that he didn't have to give. 

And no one would have ever thought that Peter was the keeper. Weak little Peter that hid behind his three powerful friends. But Peter had betrayed them. He turned out to be the spy in their midst that Dumbledore had warned them of. 

Now Lilly and James were dead and it was his fault. He had convinced them to switch the keepers so certain the plan would work. He had been so certain that Remus was the spy. He had suspected it ever since his old friend had begun to distance himself from the others. 

It just made sense that the werewolf would be the one to turn spy… But it was Peter, the last person he had expected to join Voldemort. And no one had suspected him... 

Briefly, the dark haired human paused on the side walk in one of the busy districts of Muggle London as he remembered Lilly's eyes, the strange glint that had appeared in them when he had suggest they use Peter as secret keeper. And now, Sirius realized that she had suspected. 

She had never believed that Remus or himself to be the traitor, and she argued vehemently with anyone who said otherwise. Yet she had questioned Peter more than once. But he and James had always brushed it off as ridiculous, and she had never pushed the subject. 

She was, had been right. Now it was too late to do anything. 

Shaking his head, Sirius looked around the crowded area, searching for the traitor. He knew he was here. His animagus form's heightened sense of smell carried over into his human body, and had picked up Peter's unique scent. He had been hunting him ever since he left Godric Hollow. Pettigrew would pay for betraying them. 

Sirius could see in his mind the lifeless eyes of his friends. Tears had flowed down his face like blood as grief had dampened his soul. The only ray of light that had pierced the darkness in his mind was the fact that his godson still lived. Somehow, he had survived the Dark Lord with nothing more then a scar. But even that joy dimmed with the knowledge that Dumbledore had chosen the Dursleys to raise the child. 

He would have to change that once he dealt with Pettigrew. He had met Lily's relatives once, and in his opinion, they were no better then Snape. 

Again, Sirius scanned the area for the traitor and this time he spotted him. Quickly, he made his way towards his once-friend, unaware that another being was following him, blending unnaturally, effortlessly, into the crowd. 

As the distance between the two began to close, Sirius began yelling angrily, fingering his wand, "PETER! YOU RAT!" Turning around, Peter stared at Sirius, frightened of the frozen look in the other eyes. Taking a small step back, the plump man swallowed as he gathered his wit. 

And before Sirius could yell again, the traitor screamed, "HOW COULD YOU, SIRIUS?! THEY WERE OUR FRIENDS!! HOW COULD YOU BETRAY JAMES AND LILLY?" 

Sirius saw red, and as he opened his mouth to bellow back at Peter, his eyes caught the slight movement of the other pulling his wand behind them, while saying a curse. Eyes widening, Sirius pulled out his own, not caring for the secrecy laws, as he realized what Peter was about to do. 

But his mysterious follower was faster. With a flick of his wrist the blond hair being sent a small dagger flying, slicing into Peter's hand as the wizard completed the spell, severing two fingers as it did. 

The crowd panicked at the explosion, and the stranger cursed in a tongue long forgotten by the human race. Through narrow eyes, the being watched Peter transform into his animagus form and crawl toward a storm drain. The stranger grabbed another dagger from the holster under his shirt as he walked towards the escaping rat, dodging terrified citizens as he did. As the rat started to enter the sewer, he flicked his wrist once more, allowing the dagger to fly. 

Distantly he heard a screech of pain, before the being heard his dagger clinking on the cement. He knelt next to the drain to retrieve his knife, noted that the traitor had escaped alive, though badly wounded, the being noted as he spotted the severed tail. Scanning the crowd, the disguised elf spotted two of his kindred and with minute hand gestures, signaled them to follow the rat. Pettigrew would not escape capture for long. 

As the blond elf retrieved his other dagger, he saw Ministry lackeys appearing in the busy street to do damage control while others arrested a madly laughing Sirius. The eldar knew that laugh; he had heard it many times before. It was the laugh of a man who had lost all reason for living, save one. 

Revenge. Briefly, he watched as the aurors took the human away. With a shake of his head, the elf disappeared from the hectic street, heading back to the elvish kingdom of Mirkwood. His lord needed to know of the new developments. 

  
  
************************* 

  
  


The afternoon sun was high in the sky by the time the blond elf entered through the outer gate of the last elven home and briefly stopped to observe his home for a quiet moment. 

Much had changed within his home throughout the ages. He could still remember the way Mirkwood once was during his youth. Back before the other elven kingdoms were forced to come and settle in its woods. During a time when there was neither outer wall nor gate… Except for the gate that stood at the mouth of a cave, which on each side ran into slopes covered with trees. 

But that time had passed long ago. Mirkwood was now mixed with the different cultures of his kindred. And to the Eldar the difference was obvious, but those ignorant of elven cultures would fail to see much difference. 

Looking at his home once more with his brown eyes, he smiled lightly before he started to walk down the mossy paths towards his lord's halls, allowing his thoughts to wonder in the past. The evolution of his home began when the elven kingdom of Ithilien had join with Mirkwood. 

Ithilien was considered a young kingdom for its birth occurred during the Fourth Age when King Elessar of Gondor gave the land to Mirkwood's youngest prince in hopes that the elves could restore the land. Prince Legolas had accepted the king's request and asked for his people's aid. Many of the wood-elves did follow the prince to their new home and slowly they had brought the land back to life. 

The journey of the Fellowship had greatly influenced Thranduil's youngest son and Ithilien architecture became a blend of the many cultures the young elf had seen. When the citizens of Ithilien rejoined with those of Mirkwood centuries later, they brought with them their new culture and subtle alterations began to occur within the woods. 

Briefly the elf stopped underneath a tree as another called out greetings from the talan in the upper branches. With a wave of his hand, he returned the greeting before continuing on his way. It was when the elven kingdoms of Lothlorien and Rivendell joined with Mirkwood when the most pronounced changes transpired. 

With the arrival of their kindred from Lorien, came the outer walls, weaving between the trees for added protection for the growing city within. Slowly over millennia, the three cultures began to combine. The elves from Rivendell built their homes among the trees and river rocks, using nature in their architecture as they once had done. Their settlements disappeared into the forest just beyond the entrance to the caves where Thranduil's halls dwell. 

Parts of the Lothlorien colonies intertwined with that of Rivendell, while the other parts circled around the community as they built their talans in the upper branches of the trees. Their ethereal bridges and stairs connected the city's great trees together in a web. 

With a sigh, the elf passed through the gate of the Mirkwood cave and walked through the fire lit corridors until he entered the great hall. Upon a chair of carved wood his lord, King Thranduil, sat bearing a crown of berries and red leaves on his golden head. 

Approaching, the elven king, the elf bowed, saying, "My lord, I bring news of Sirius Black and the traitor to the King's kin."

"What is your report, Celebeth," replied Thranduil. 

"Late this morning, Sirius Black confronted the person with whom he had switched places as Secret Keeper to the Potter family. The traitor turned out to be their fellow Marauder, Peter Pettigrew." Pausing, Celebeth's eyes met the blue gaze of his lord before he continued. "A conflict occurred and Pettigrew accused Sirius of betraying the Potters before casting a curse behind his back as Black drew his wand. I disarmed the spy, but at least five humans are dead and many others are wounded. Pettigrew used his animagus form, that of a rat, and escaped through a sewer drain. He is, however, severely wounded. He is missing two fingers and his tail." 

Slight amusement flickered in the elven king's eyes as he raised an eyebrow in question. 

"As Pettigrew was escaping," the scout extrapolated, "I threw my dagger at him. He had entered far into the drain to be hit directly, and escaped with his life, but not his tail." After gathering his thoughts, Celebeth continued his report. 

"Several ministry officials appeared to control the situation and the aurors have taken Sirius into custody. From what Dinrandir has told me, Bartemius Crouch is looking for a person to use as a scapegoat in order to gain the favor of the wizards once again. I believe he may use Black for that purpose." Thranduil nodded for him to continue, choosing to stay silent about his thoughts. 

"Before I came to report to you I sent Uialrandir and Elenatan after Pettigrew. I believe that the traitor will not elude them long." Again, the elven king nodded. 

Both remained silent for a few moments, before Thranduil commanded, "Celebeth, contact Eleniel and inform her that I want all information concerning Sirius Black's 'trial,' reported to me immediately, then join Uialrandir and Elenatan on the hunt for Pettigrew." Thranduil's eyes narrowed before he gave one last cold order. "Make sure the traitor stays alive." 

Bowing, Celebeth murmured, "Yes, my lord," and left the hall to complete the task given him. 

"Atalamire," the elven king beckoned a maiden clad in a dark blue gown from the side of the room. 

Stopping in front of the lord, Atalamire replied, "Yes, my lord?" 

"I want you inform Iselasea that he is to observe the werewolf, Remus Lupin and report any unusual activities." 

Bowing her head in respect, Atalamire said, "Of course, my lord," and left the room. 

"Edheliel, go find Celeborn and inform…" Thranduil began to order another maiden, when an elf interrupted him. 

"I will inform Celeborn of your wishes." 

Turning his head, the elven king stared down at the elf that glided before him. The golden-haired elf stood tall matching the king's eyes with his own blue gaze. Silence passed between the two. After several moments, Thranduil raised an eyebrow in question. 

"I have need to speak to Celeborn myself," the other replied calmly. A glint of annoyance entered the king's eyes, before they softened lightly. 

Sighing, Thranduil answered, "Very well. Inform him that I wish to speak with him after your talk." 

With a nod, the younger elf replied, "Very well," and left the room in search for Celeborn.

  
*********************  
  


She was ready. It had taken just a little over half a day to unpack, but at last, everything was where it should be. And now it was time to check up on her charge. 

It was a welcome surprise when Albus Dumbledore had contacted her late last night asking if she would be willing to move into a house a few streets down from Privet Drive to keep a watch out on little Harry Potter. And she would gladly. The poor little fellow, having his parents taken away from him at such an early age, but at least he still had some family left to go to. 

Though, she had heard much ill news about the Dursleys from Minerva McGonagall. But surely, the Dursleys were better then an orphanage weren't they? She would just have to find out first hand. 

With thought fixed in her mind, the middle aged woman, with mostly gray hair bunched up in a hairnet, walked toward the front door, calling over her shoulder at one of the many cats in her home. "Watch the house for me, Mr. Tibbles. I have work to do."  

An hour later, the woman stood outside the door of number four, Privet Drive. She had made sure to stop at several other houses on the way in order to avoid suspicion. She was warned by Professor McGonagall of Petunia Dursley's hobby of spying on her neighbors. 

Knocking on the door, she waited for someone to answer while she remembered Dumbledore's order to not say anything about magic: to act completely like a Muggle. Though, she doubted that would be too difficult concerning the fact that she was a squib and unable to use magic. 

An acceptable delay later, the door opened revealing a thin, blond hair woman with a screaming infant on her hip. "Can I help you?" 

Holding back a sigh, Figg looked at the child, and stated falsely, "He is so adorable! Your son?" Mrs. Dursley nodded, smiley slightly. Taking that as her cue, the older woman continued. "I'm Arabella Figg. I'm new to the area, and thought I'd get to know some people in the community slightly better." 

With unfriendly eyes, the other woman answered, "I'm Petunia Dursley and this is my son, Dudley." 

"I love children." Arabella cooed. "I wish I had children of my own, unfortunately, my husband passed away many years ago. I don't have any nephews or nieces either. What about you? Any other children?" 

"No," was Petunia's answer.

 For a moment Arabella paused collecting her thoughts. "Any nephew or niece?" 

"My nephew stays with my sister, whom I haven't seen since she left to be with that no good husband." Arabella pursed her lips together as she felt an angry fear rise within her. 

Looking straight into the other woman's eyes, she question. "You have never seen your nephew?" 

"No." 

"Not once?" She questioned. 

"No." 

Gulping down a lump of pure terror, Arabella said, "Well it was nice talking to you, Mrs. Dursleys, but I just remembered that I left a cake in the oven. If you ever need someone to baby sit, just give me a call. I'd be happy to be of help. Goodbye." 

Not bothering to wait for Petunia's farewell, Arabella turned around and broke into a run towards her house. Albus needed to know.

______________________________________

Sorry for the wait, but hopefully everyone has enjoyed the chapter.

However, I do not know when the next chapter will be out. And my stories will be temporarily on hold until I finish and send in my aptitude test for a writing coarse that I trying to get in. 

Well, till next time!

Like? Hate? Let me know, please!


	4. Chapter 4: Wanderings of the past

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Chapter 4: Wanderings of the past.

Since the beginning of life, those living have had to make choices. Both young and the old played a hand in their own fate. Yet, the young were unaware of many consequences of their actions. Their eyes were still naïve to the dangers around them. But as the children grew, their bright innocence faded and they too were forced to face pain. 

The pain which comes from an ill choice, or even at times a good choice. 

Through the ages, mortals and eldar alike had created excuses for their actions. Occurring more often with the second born. Their short lifespan allowed very few to realize the uselessness of excuses. But even with the wisdom of age, some elves still created new ones. Old habits are hard to break no matter what race one is born to. 

No choice; an excuse that the second born overused to rationalize their affairs. It was a false statement. Every choice had two paths that lead from it; sometimes more. These roads branched in opposite directions while others ran on parallel planes until they splintered off. In the end, it was up to each person to decide which path to tread. 

But the times were changing. The era of Middle-Earth was gone and with it the influence of elves was all but exhausted. The ages passed and the ruling posts of the world were manned by the corrupted. Hiding behind illusions and pretense to gain power; very few now cared for the people or the land. 

Stronger became the corruption in the governments, and crimes plagued the nations. Criminals were caught; yet, most were set free with little to no punishment. The justice of Mortals had become feeble and was growing weaker as time passed. Excuses were allowing the guilty to pass unscathed. And slowly shadows began to spread across the land and the dark lords began to terrorize the world once more. 

Even though they were only smaller shadows, each time a new evil arose the elves stood and watched, giving aid when the need became great. Unlike the second born, the eldar had not forgotten Middle-Earth and swore to never again allow a dark lord raise to the level which Sauron obtained; if it laid in their power to prevent it. The world may be for men to rule and to shape, but the second born had proven many times that they needed a guardian. The fears of the Kings of old were becoming truer by each day. 

Desires. The greed in the second born had not changed. Many still sought out power, some, the dark lords, using any means to obtain it. They wanted to bring the world to its knees or retain life forever. Most of the dark ones wanted both. 

Mortals failed to see that immortal life was beyond their reach. Something no magic could grant. Only the Valar had the power to grant such, and they had only granted it to one human under special circumstances. 

That immortality came with a price, for Earendill, father of Elrond and Elros is never again allowed to return to Middle-Earth. 

Yet, the concept of immortality had become twisted in mortal's minds. They believed that being immortal meant to escape death. But that was far from the truth. No one was free of its hand, not truly. Immortals knew nothing of old age or pestilence, but it would not prevent dying from a mortal wound or world-weariness. 

Since the beginning of their birth, the second born had cursed Iluvatar's gift to them. The gift of mortality; of rest. They considered it a cursed, and failed to see the true greatness of it. They were free to pass beyond the circles of the world. 

The eldar could do no such thing. When an elf dies, they either await the end of days in the halls of Mandos, or they are sent back to the realm of the living to continue to guide others. Such an event occurred to Glorfindel after he had died against a Balrog, a fell demon of might. 

But mortals will never understand the truth of immortality. They only see the good, never the bad. The pain of losing mortal friends and knowing that even in death they remain forever beyond reach. Nor do they realize the sharp pain of witnessing all that is familiar become lost. 

It was a weight that laid heavily upon the golden haired elf that walked the gardens outside Celeborn's study in his search. 

Treading softly on the mossy paths, he allowed his mind to wonder through memories of the ancient past. To the third and fourth age of Middle-earth when his friends had walked alongside him and of their adventures. He recalled perfectly the quest of the Fellowship, seeing the glittering caves with his Dwarven friend, and saving the ranger from the Elven twins' mischief. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face as the joyful memories flittered through his thoughts. The warmth that came from that friendship still gave him strength to continue in the world of men.

Freeing his mind from the past with a slight shake of his head, the elf stopped beside the figure of Celeborn. Briefly the two stood watching the water run over the river rocks as birds sang cheerfully. 

"My father wishes to speak with you." 

With a nod of acknowledgment, Celeborn looked to the elf beside him, observing, "Perhaps he is not the only one who seeks my council." 

A small smile graced the other and he briefly closed his eyes.  "You know me too well, my friend." Silence descended as he searched for words to express his thoughts. "The trees are growing restless. They feel the change as we do." For a moment he paused, "Their anger is strong; I fear that they will not sleep much longer. If they wake, any humans that enter the woods will be in grave danger. Too much harm has been done to grant them safe passage." 

Celeborn nodded. "We have time. The woods will calm if they believe the second born are learning to respect them." 

"That is my father's belief as well." For a moment he paused before adding, "Though he doubts such will occur."  
  


Chuckling, Celeborn replied, "That does not surprise me. Thranduil never had much faith in the human race. Estel was one of the few exceptions."   
  


"Indeed." The younger elf agreed quietly, his eyes stopping on the building beside them.  
  


"You can visit him if you wish. I'm sure you could wrest him away from my grandsons for a time."  
  


He merely shook his head, choosing to remain silent.  
  


Celeborn rested a hand on the younger elf's shoulder, stating softly, "Legolas. The barrier you hold around yourself need not be there. They would not want their deaths to cause this wound in your heart."  
  


Legolas stared at the ground below him. "I am passed fading, my lord, you need not worry."  
  


Releasing his shoulder, Celeborn walked away from his kindred stating, "But a friend is always needed. Is that not true, young one?"  
  
***************  
  


Voldemort was defeated, and peace had finally returned to the wizarding world. A peace bought by a one-year-old child. Remarkable really; a sad event covered by a joyful one. The most malevolent dark lord in existence was defeated, but the boy was orphaned.   
  


He was not without family though. Two day previous, he had left the child at the doorstep of his aunt's. And on the boy he placed a charm that would protect him from harm as long as he called his relatives' house, home.   
  


But Voldemort would return, he had no doubts about that. Not since the one true prediction that Sibyll Trelawney had made one year ago in the Hog's Head Inn. A prophecy he remembered all too well and had stored in his pensieve.  
  


'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…'  
  


Before the dark lord's defeat there were two possible children. Neville Longbottom or Harry Potter. But the choice had been made and a plan had to be prepared to defeat the dark lord when the time came.   
  


Within ten years the young boy would come to Hogwarts for his schooling. And at that time he must not fall into the trap of caring too much for the boy. It was one he could not afford, or the wizarding community and countless Muggles may pay the price. But he could avoid that trap; he was certain.   
  


Already, the plan was underway. It had started when he had left the child in his relatives' care.   
  


The flutter of wings woke the old man from his musing and he looked up at the owl landing on his cluttered desk. Carefully, Albus Dumbledore untied the letter from the bird's leg, feeding it a treat as he did. Slowly, he opened the letter, the sparkle in his eyes dying as he read the contents.  
  


"No." he muttered, momentarily lost in his thoughts. Shaken his head, he stood up, tossing a handful of green dust into the burning fireplace behind him, calling "Minerva."   
  


"Yes, Headmaster?" Professor McGonagall answered through the green flames.  
  


"I need to see you in my office. Now, please."   
  


"Of course." And with the channel canceled the fire slowly returned to red. 

Sitting back in his seat he pondered the situation, chin resting on folded hands, gazing at the pot of floo powder. Nodding to himself, he reached for the dust. He had three more fire-calls to make.  
  
  


***************  
  


"It's not the time." Thranduil said firmly, glaring at the elf lord across the room.  
  


Sighing, Celeborn replied, "But it is drawing near."  
  


Walking across the fire lit study to his desk, Thranduil poured wine into a golden goblet, declaring, "You are not your wife, Celeborn, nor are you Elrond. You can't be certain that it will come to pass."  
  


Crossing his arms, the Lorien Lord frowned. "You're too stubborn for your own good, Thranduil…"  
  


"And I suppose that I am the only one here being stubborn." Thranduil interrupted sarcastically.  
  


'And thickheaded.' Celeborn added mentally. Stiffening his back he said, "You've felt it as have I. The times are changing."  
  


"It will not change our situation." Thranduil countered dryly, sipping on his wine.  
  


'Prideful.' Thought Celeborn, continuing his mental list. "The age is ending."  
  


Thranduil shrugged nonchalantly. "We have seen many ages begin and end. This is nothing new."   
  


'Irritating.' Celeborn studied the other elf lord silently before questioning. "And that it's coming to an end at the same time we took young Potter under our wing does not bother you?"  
  


"Coincidence." Thranduil answered, a glint of concern flickering through his eyes.  
  


'Arrogant.' Celeborn narrowed his blue eyes in thought. 'You don't believe in your own words.' Sighing, Celeborn repeated, "The time is coming."  
  


"But has yet to arrive." Thranduil countered.  
  


'Adamant.' Closing his eyes briefly, Celeborn said, "That does not mean we should not be prepared."   
  


Thranduil nodded in agreement before saying, "About Harry..."  
  


"He is in the care of my grandsons, where he shall remain." Celeborn interrupted calmly while added to his mental list: 'Infuriating.'  
  


'Persistent trying elf.' Thranduil thought as he scowled. "They still act like children…."  
  


"As do your own, Thranduil." Celeborn interrupted again. "The twins are responsible when the need arises. They will do fine in raising Nicholas." 'Aggravating.'  
  


Raising an eyebrow, Thranduil questioned, "Nicholas?"  
  


"Harry's new name. Nicholas Estel Green." Celeborn answered.  
  


"Charmed." Thranduil stated mockingly. "But…"  
  


'How in the Valar did he have a son like Legolas?!' Celeborn wondered. Coldly watching the elf before him, he ordered firmly, "Enough, Thranduil! As the boy's grandfather it is my right to choose who will raise him."   
  


Scowling, Thranduil allowed the subject to drop, questioning, "And the scarring…"  
  


Resisting the urge to rub his forehead, Celeborn continued to listen to Thranduil's suggestions and veiled insults with fading patience. It was going to be a long meeting.  
  
  


*************  
  


Three of the people he called had already arrived, sitting or standing in different parts of his cluttered office. Now they were awaiting the last guest to arrive. Albus knew the tension was thick between each member and it would only get worse when the last person joined.  
  


Each person had a background with the others in one form or another. And most of them were not good.   
  


Placing another lemon drop into his mouth, he sighed again. He just hoped that they would be able to put old grudges aside to help one another find Harry. It would not be easy for any of them. That he was sure of.  
  


Looking up as a knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, Albus called, "Come in, my boy."  
  


Quietly, a light brown haired young man, dressed in a shabby set of wizard's robes, entered the room.  
  


"What are you doing here, werewolf?" Sneered the black haired wizard standing in the darkest corner of the room.  
  


"I am here by the request of the headmaster, Snape," the man said calmly, his eyes narrowing at Severus.  
  


"The same answer you gave, Death Eater," an older man said flatly from his seat in the back of the room.  
  


Ignoring the comment, Severus turned back to the man who had entered the room, glaring. "Your kind should never be allowed."  
  


"Neither should yours." Two people growled.   
  


"Severus. Remus. Alastor. That is enough. I called all of you here for a reason and it wasn't to bicker amongst yourselves," Albus ordered firmly, pinning each with his blue gaze.  
  


The three beings nodded their heads and took their positions in different parts of the room, glaring at each other in turn.   
  


Again, Albus sighed, his age showing. Looking at the people in his office he stated bluntly, "Harry is missing."  
  


"What?!!" Two of the occupants yelled in shock while the others stared.  
  


"What do you mean, Albus?!" Demanded Minerva.  
  


Sighing, Albus handed Professor McGongall the letter and waited until everyone had read it before stating, "This is what I need you to do…"  
  
*************  
  


Sighing, Legolas turned his dull eyes towards the heavens, watching as the dying rays of color faded into night. Within a sparkling desert the moon glowed brightly, lighting the ground below and providing a feeling of serenity that he sought.   
  


Within a short time span, many factors in his life had changed. After many years another human had entered into his life in a much closer way then he would have preferred. The infant descendant of Aragorn was to be raised in his home as part of their family. A child he had yet to meet; did not want to meet.  
  


Ages ago, before his mortal friends had passed beyond the circles of the world, he would have been overjoyed at the chance to meet his friends' kin. But he was no longer that elf. That elf had faded away long ago.  
  


After his dwarfish friend had passed from the world he had fallen to the clutches of grief and had nearly wasted away himself. It had been a struggle to live and with no desire to try. But his kindred had reached him in the end. Even with their help it was a struggle he almost didn't survive. Madness had passed through him in that state, where he could no longer tell between what was real and what wasn't.   
  


To this day he could remember those days that he had almost died…  
  


~~*~~  
  


_Darkness lurked at the corners of his vision, threatening to overcome him. It had been days since he had last seen the sun or stars, but he could no longer find the energy to care.   
  
_

_Food lay on the table beside him, but he care not for that. It was not hunger that was causing him pain. No. It was much deeper than that. Gimli had passed from the world and had left far beyond his reach.  
  
_

_And it hurt. More then a cut, or burn ever could.  
  
_

_He knew this day would come. He thought he could handle it. That he was prepared for the pain meant to come.  
  
_

_What a fool he had been.   
  
_

_He thought he had understood. He had seen death before, in his kindred as well as the other races. But none of them had hit him this hard. The closest he could remember, was the grief that came when Gandalf the Grey had fallen to the Balrog in Moria.  
  
_

_But Gandalf had returned to them. His friends would not.  
  
_

_Dull blue eyes closed, to tired to remain open in the elven way. But it no longer mattered whether they were open or shut, for they saw nothing but darkness. Nor did the being hear the door of his room open as a pale blonde elf entered.  
  
_

_He was fading. But he did not care. He wanted peace and he could not find it here in Valinor. But perhaps he could find it in Mandos. His soul felt so weary, so heavy…   
  
_

_It was his time.  
  
_

_He knew his kindred did not agree. He could hear them at first; trying to call him back. But he had no wish to go. He wanted peace. And he would not find it here, so he must go where he could.   
  
_

'We will make such a chase as shall be accounted a marvel among the Three Kindreds: Elves, Dwarves and Men. Forth the Three Hunters.'  
  


_That voice. Is someone speaking to me? Or is this a memory? _

'We will wait for the cover of darkness.'  
  


_Wait for it? But night is here, Aragorn…Aragorn. That is the person who speaks to me. I remember now. My ranger friend.  
  
_

'Namarie mellon.'  
  


_Goodbye? No Aragorn… It's not goodbye, your still here. I can hear you. Aragorn? Why does my heart hurt so?  
  
_

_It hurts so much. _

_Let my life end…I can no longer find comfort in the living world. Neither the forest nor the sea can hold my heart.   
  
_

_There is no comfort here.   
  
_

'You are a Wood-elf, anyway, though Elves of any kind are strange folk. Yet you comfort me. Where you go, I will go.'_  
  
_

_Gimli, my friend, are you truly there? Or is this another delusion?   
  
_

'Blasted Elf!'  
  


_What? The river water wasn't that cold and you needed to get the mud off you.  
  
_

'One thing you have not found in your hunting, and that's brighter wits.'  
  


_This coming from someone who got stuck in a tree… Did you not make the same comment to Gimli during the War with Sauron, Pippin?   
  
_

_The lighter blonde elf tapped his face, commanding firmly "Wake up, Legolas Thandulion." For several moments he paused, noticing that the fading elf was giving no response. Glancing briefly around, he grabbed the goblet of water and tossed it contents onto Legolas face and noted with no small satisfaction as Legolas flinched. "Get up, Legolas."  
  
_

_Weakly, Legolas open his eyes, staring blankly at the elf, and rasped, "Let me die, Haldir."   
  
_

_"No." Haldir replied calmly, arms folded over his chest.  
  
_

_Legolas closed his eyes, whispering, "Leave me alone."  
  
_

_"You shame their memories."  
  
_

_Eyes snapping open, Legolas looked at the Marchwarden in disbelief. "Excuse me?"  
  
_

_"You shame them, Legolas," Haldir repeated, his voice deadly quiet. "They died with honor. But I cannot say the same for you."  
  
_

_Sighing, Legolas said wearily, "It's my time."  
  
_

_Haldir snorted. "Only a fool would believe that." Walking to the other side of the room, he picked up Legolas's twin daggers before returning them to the elf's side. "You have become a shell of your former self, Legolas," placing the daggers in his right hand. "But in the end the choice remains yours. Shame them or honor them. Choose carefully." And with that said, the Marchwarden left the room without a glance back.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
_

_The sun was fading, allowing the first glimpses of the stars to shine through. Legolas sighed as he tore his gaze way from the dock to watch the stars above.   
  
_

_Four weeks had passed since Haldir had first spoken with him, but it had not been the last. The Marchwarden of Lothlorien had become one of his usual companions since that day. Slowly, he had found strength. He had chosen to honor his mortal friends.   
  
_

_He would not deny that it still hurt greatly to think of his friends, but he would not allow himself to fade. Haldir had been right. It was not his time, yet. There were things to be done. It was time to leave Valinor and return to Middle-Earth.   
  
_

_He had come here with Gimli after Aragorn's death to find peace from sea longing. But he could not find true peace here. No, he had been lost and it was time to rediscover himself. He had answers to seek.   
  
_

_He had already said his goodbyes. It was time to go.  
  
_

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Legolas looked behind him. Haldir and his brothers stood there, each dressed to travel.  
  


_Looking at Legolas in the eyes, Haldir stated, "You shall not go alone, my friend."_

_                                                ~*~  
  
_

"Lost in thought again, I see." Haldir said, stirring Legolas from his memories.  
  


Looking down towards the grounded elf, Legolas smile and said teasingly, "What are you doing down there captain? Afraid to climb a tree?"  
  


Haldir snorted. "Hardly. But a duel in the trees is rather senseless."  
  


"Looking to loss again, are we?" Legolas was laughing slightly as he climbed down from his perch.  
  


Arching one eyebrow, Haldir commented dryly, "How many times have you lost to me in these past millennia?"  
  


"I wouldn't lose if you would start challenging me to archery instead of swordsmanship," Legolas muttered.  
  


"That is precisely why I don't." Haldir said wryly. "I merely allow the naïve or the foolish do so."  
  


Chuckling, Legolas drew his twin knives, settling into a ready stance. "Calling Elrohir foolish, now are we? If I remember correctly, he's better at the sword then you are."  
  


Drawing his own sword, Haldir began to circle the prince, stating, "Only a fool would continue to make a venture of competing against you in archery and lose all five times." Haldir struck at Legolas's side and retreated when the prince parried his blow.  
  


"Or someone very bored, which Elrohir was three of the five times." Legolas replied, taking the offense.  
  


Haldir snorted as he parried the elf's blows. "I notice you weren't at the welcome committee when we arrived with Harry." Stepping back a step, Haldir allowed the prince's blade to pass by him harmlessly, following with an attack of his own.   
  


"I was busy." Legolas grunted as he deflected an attack, choosing to retreat a couple spaces from the Marchwarden.   
  


Again the two elves circled each other, carefully looking for the weaknesses in their opponent's defense.   
  


Fainting towards Legolas's right side, Haldir stated dryly, "You are running."  
  


Stepping back, Legolas allowed the blade to pass him harmlessly, replying firmly, "I am not running."  
  


Raising that infernal eyebrow, Haldir questioned, "Then why have you not visited him?"  
  


Striking out with his daggers, Legolas countered, "What makes you think I haven't?"   
  


Blocking the attacks during a swift retreat, Haldir sighed, "You need to learn to let go, youngling."  
  


"I have," Legolas retorted, a note of anger coloring his voice as continued his attack.  
  


"Why then, are you afraid of a mere babe," Haldir asked mockingly, switching from defense to offense.   
  


"I am not afraid." Grunting, he deflected an attack. For several minutes they dueled, throwing comments back and forth, grating on the other's nerves. Anger met calm, closely followed by a bout of frustration and annoyance.   
  


The two elves had known each other for many centuries, even millennia. And after such time, there were very few things they could hide from the other. Something, both took comfort in, despite how aggravating the other could be when provoked. They understood each other and that was enough for them.   
  


With a small smile gracing his lips, Legolas nodded to Haldir, coming to a slow halt in the duel. Quietly the two friends sheathed their weapons, content to stand next to one another in silence.   
  


Looking up to the stars, Legolas said quietly, "Thank you, my friend."  
  


Turning to leave, Haldir replied, "Don't ponder too long. I would like to finish this duel before the next century."  
  


"In a hurry to lose, Haldir?"  
  


Smirking, the Lorien elf walked towards his quarters, leaving his companion to his thoughts.   "We'll see."

____________________________________

_Hi!  Hopefully everyone has enjoyed the chapter._

_ Sorry for the long wait. My only excuse is that I have been busy._

_The good news is that I pass my test and have entered into the writing course._

_However, I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, but I'll get it out as soon as possible. But I have to first complete the next chapter of LTT. So please be patient with me._

_By the way… Can anyone remember what Remus's eye color is?_

_Well, till next time!_

_Like? Hate? Please let me know! _


	5. Chapter 5: Completed circle

Hi. Sorry it took so long to get a new chapter out. And thanks to everyone who reviewed. I probably should have taken a couple more days to catch some grammar mistakes but I figured everyone was tired of waiting. And with that in mind I'm going to shut up and let you read. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Completed circle**

Throughout the ages within each generation many ugly events had occurred, being driven by one emotion. Fear. Innocent beings were hunted, imprisoned, or killed sometimes for simply being in the wrong spot at the wrong time. Such was the case when Denethor feared losing his power within Gondor, which lead him to use the palantir and later drove him to madness. A similar cycle was now being repeated with Bartemius Crouch within the ministry.

An event that Eleniel would not allowed repeating even if it meant removing Bartemius from the equation permanently. But it hadn't reached that option yet and she couldn't allow her unconfirmed fears to hasten her decisions.

She pushed her brunette hair behind her ears and looked out the window in her office. Another shadow was building upon the horizon, lurking for footholds to gain power. And she needed to remove as many footholds as possible—starting with freeing Sirius Black from Azkaban.

"Élan." Dinrandir said from the doorway, a folder in his right hand. "It's done." He walked into the room, halting by the desk and laid the folder on it. "I got the papers you needed to call a trial up, but you need new evidence to spring it."

Eleniel smiled. "Thanks Din." She grabbed a small piece of parchment and wrote:

_Now.__ E_

She rolled up the message and turned to her companion asking, "Walk with me to the owlry?"

"Of coarse, milady." Dinrandir replied, bowing. "I have a message of my own to send."

Eleniel shook her head. "One of these days, Din, I'm going to hurt you."

"But milady you already hurt me by shunning my ever effort each day." Dinrandir said as he placed a hand over his heart." I fear my heart will fail to take much more of this punishment."

"Quiet you." She commanded before walking out of the room.

* * *

Dumbledore sighed and rested his head on his folded hands. Two weeks had passed, yet no sign of Harry had appeared. Alastor, Remus, and Minerva had all failed to find a clue on the whereabouts of the child or even what happened.

The Dursleys had truly been ignorant of the happenings of that night—a simple truth potion prove that, and the neighbors had seen nothing as well. From every angle it seemed that the child disappeared from thin air. His only hope of finding a clue now rested on the shoulders of Severus, as awful as that truth may turn out to be.

A knock on his door drew him out of his thoughts. He raised his head and commanded. "Come in."

"Headmaster." Severus greeted as he walked into the room.

"Just the person I wanted to see." Dumbledore said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. "Please have a seat. Lemon drop?"

Severus shook his head and took a seat. "I've spoken with some from the inner circle and the deatheaters are in chaos without the Dark Lord. But from what I could gather they know nothing of anyone disappears much less Potter's."

Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes. "Then he is truly gone. We have no leads to follow."

Silence passed between them for several moments before Severus stood. "I should leave."

"Severus, my boy, wait." Dumbledore replied, raising one hand. "There is another matter I wish to speak to you about."

"Yes headmaster?"

He gave a small smile before asking, "Would you like to take the position of Potion Master and Professor at Hogwarts?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that Conners's position?"

Dumbledore sighed. "He quit earlier this week."

"I doubt the ministry would improve—"

"I will handle the ministry, my boy." Dumbledore interrupted.

Severus stared at Dumbledore for several moments before nodding. "I accept."

Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, Severus." He opened a folder and stated. "You'll just need to sign the first three papers and return them. The rest is your schedule as well as the current standings of your classes."

Severus's scowled before nodding and grabbing the papers. "Good day, headmaster."

* * *

Legolas sighed and leaned his head against the tree trunk, watching as three owls flew into the horizon, each bearing a message. He closed his eyes and listened to the quiet footsteps of his kindred for several moments before stating, "The wind is changing. The trees grow restless—"

"And the sea has hushed." Elrohir finished, stopping beside him.

"I don't know whether to be relieve or worry that Eru Iluvatar has stopped calling us home." Legolas admitted. "It could mean so many things."

Elrohir nodded. "True, my friend, but it could mean nothing as well. We who choose to remain behind are incredibly resilient to the callings. Perhaps the creator understands this."

"A new age is coming, Elrohir. You have felt this as we all have." Legolas shook his head. "Perhaps the silence is a hint, a clue that our time is coming once more."

"The race of Men would be shock for sure." Elrohir snorted. "True Elves, not what they deem as _house_-elves."

Legolas shook his head. "It's sad—the fate that had befallen the hobbits. The race was a wonderful one and now it is as twisted as their appearance."

"Indeed." Elrohir agreed as he looked to the stars. "Giledin is still searching for a way to break the curse on them." Elrohir closed his eyes and shook his head. "He hasn't found one yet."

Legolas frowned. "And the humans have already forgotten what they did to them by meddling with parts of magic better left alone."

"Indeed." Elrohir replied. "But try telling them that."

Legolas glanced at his companion and raised an eyebrow. "What is it you came here for, Elrohir?"

"What?" Elrohir question. "Can't a friend come to keep another company?"

"With you?" Legolas countered. "No."

Elrohir placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "Legolas, my friend, you wound me with your words. Have I not been a helpful friend?"

"More like torturer." Legolas muttered.

Elrohir glared before handing a paper to him. Legolas looked down at the article, the title reading:

**SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT?**

"Dinrandir and Eleniel manage to get the trial pushed foreword I see."

Elrohir nodded. "Yes they did. The verdict should be released in the next couple of days."

Legolas nodded. "Young Estel won't be able to face his path alone. He will need aid."

"He will have it." Elrohir replied, leaning against the opposite tree that Legolas was leaning against.

Legolas closed his eyes. "More than us Elves."

"He will find some among his kindred." Elrohir stated, crossing his arms.

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "What are you planning now, my friend?"

"Eomer's and Faramir's lines still exist."

Legolas pushed himself away from the tree. "Those lines fell into shadow. One believe to have been lost and the other choose shadow because of their cravings for power." He shook his head and continued. "And now you tell me that we are to rely on their aid. Are you mad?"

Elrohir sighed. "It's true that they fell into shadow, but we found a descendant of Faramir's line, it's weakened but she has the potential of making it into Hogwarts." He shook his head and paused for a moment. "We would've missed her had Atalamire not checked through adopted children. Even then we had to go back several generations to find the connections."

"And Eomer's line?" Legolas questioned.

Elrohir closed his gray eyes and sighed. "The newest of his line is our best chance of bringing it back to the light, but we'll have to wait until he starts Hogwarts and away from his father's influence before we can truly draw him out."

Legolas snorted. "It may already be too late by then."

"It won't if Dinrandir and Eleniel have anything to say about it." Elrohir chuckled.

Legolas nodded. "True." Silence passed between the two elves for several moments before Legolas demanded. "Now what did you really want?"

Elrohir raised an eyebrow "What? You don't believe that I came here to inform you of the events?"

"No."

"Why not, my friend?" Elrohir questioned.

"You wouldn't still be here if that was the case."

"You don't believe that I'm staying here because I enjoy the view?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "No."

Elrohir sighed. "At last, Leggy, you know me to well."

Legolas frowned. "When are you going to stop calling me that?"

"Never." Elrohir replied.

"What did I do to deserve a friend like you?" Legolas muttered as he leaned back against the tree.

Elrohir smirked. "Be born."

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Come see Estel. It's been about a month and you have yet to meet the young child."

Legolas shook his head. "I have one more task to finish before I will see him."

Elrohir frowned. "Legolas Thandulion—"

"Later tonight, Elrohir. That is when my task will be over." Legolas glanced at Elrohir and smiled. "Surely, old friend, you can wait until then."

"What is your task?" Elrohir questioned.

Legolas pulled a letter from his pocket and held it out to Elrohir to see. "To return a letter and give a message of my own."

Elrohir snorted. "An owl could do that."

"But what fun is that?"

"I see your inner child hasn't died yet." Elrohir chuckled.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "And yours has?"

Elrohir eyes sparkled. "Never."

Legolas shook his head and pocketed the letter before setting out towards the border. "I should be going."

"You should." Elrohir agreed, pushing himself away from the tree. "They finished altering Estel's scar yesterday. It looks closer to a jagged diamond now then a lightening bolt, so it should keep his identity a secret."

"Indeed it should." Legolas agreed.

"Legolas." Elrohir called.

He paused and glanced behind him. "Yes?"

"Either come visit Estel on your own tonight or I'll have my brother and Haldir help me drag your hide to see him."

Legolas chuckled. "I will, my friend. I will."

* * *

Dumbledore sighed as he set aside the piece of parchment. He needed to find another person to fill the spot for the Defense against the Dark Arts—someone who could handle the student's tricks. He smiled slightly as he stroke his graying beard. He knew someone who would be prefect for the job assuming that he would take it, but with his godson missing, Dumbledore doubted he would.

Again, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. Only a few days ago Sirius was declared an innocent man and was release from prison and already the man had taken up the hunt for Harry. But as everyone else in the Order, he had come up with no leads.

Dumbledore picked up the Daily Prophet from his desk and looked at the article title that read: **THE-BOY-WHO-LIVED GONE?**

He closed his eyes and frowned. The wizardry world had been in chaos since news about Harry disappearance got out four days ago and still he could not find a clue. Dumbledore shook his head and pushed the papers aside and paused as an envelope caught his attention. It was the very one that he left with Harry on the night he left him with the Dursleys, but there was someone else's writing on it, stating:

_He will have power the Dark Lord knows not._

_Do not search for Harry. He is safe and will remain so till its time for him to return and complete his destiny like his ancestor before him. __L_

Dumbledore frowned as he recognized the words from the prophecy. A knock

on the door drew him out of his pondering. "Come in."

"Have you found anymore clues about Harry's location?" Sirius demanded as he walked into the room.

Dumbledore held out the envelope and waited for Sirius to read it before stating. "That was the one I sent with Harry."

"Who's L?" Sirius questioned.

Dumbledore shrugged. "I do not know, my boy, I do not know."

Sirius clenched his hands. "We have to find him. We have to get Harry back."

"We don't know where to look, Sirius. L could be many people." Dumbledore gestured to the seat beside Sirius and continued. "Stay here. I have a feeling we will see Harry again."

"A feeling?" Sirius frowned.

"Yes. A feeling." Dumbledore eyes sparkled. "The message replied that he would return to face his destiny and his destiny is in the wizardry world. I have a feeling we'll see him walk these school's halls very much like you once did."

Sirius slowly sat down. "You think they will bring him here?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Hogwarts is known to be the best school for magic."

"What if you're wrong?"

Dumbledore sighed. "We will cross that bridge when we come upon it." He searched through the piles of papers before grabbing one and placing it in front of Sirius. "Would you like to become the Defense against the Dark Art professor so you're here when he arrives?"

"You're sure about this?" Sirius questioned.

Dumbledore nodded. "As much as I can. L must of gave me that note for a reason."

Sirius frowned and waited for several moments before reaching out for the quill laying on the desk and signing the paper, mumbling, "One week out of one prison and I'm already in another." He looked up at Dumbledore and sighed. "So who are my fellow professors?"

"I'm afraid will need to continue the conversation later, my boy, I'm late to dinner as it is. You should talk with Minerva; she has been covering Defense while I was searching for someone to fill it, unless of coarse you wish to join me for dinner."

Sirius stared at Dumbledore retreating figure and muttered, "Why do I have a feeling that I'm not going to like this?"

* * *

Legolas bent over the crib, smiling at the sleeping child within. "Hello, young one." He looked over to Elrohir and stated. "He's a sweet child."

Elrohir snorted. "You always arrive after he is asleep. Try putting him to bed—you wouldn't think he was so sweet then."

Legolas chuckled and shook his head. "Have you met your match in a young child, my friend?"

Elrohir froze as Harry shifted in his sleep and sighed when the child didn't wake." Glaring at Legolas he hissed, "You wake him and you'll be the one putting him back to sleep."

"No I won't." Legolas chuckled. "I'll give him to Glorfindel to handle. After all if he could help your father with Arwen, Aragorn, Elladan, and you then he can handle king's son."

Elrohir mouth twitched. "I should've thought of that."

* * *

And here we go. The board is set and the pieces are in place. It's time for the real fun to begin, everyone. The only hint I will give you for what is in store in the chapter is that you'll get to see an older Harry and I'm not talking about a couple years either. ;)

However, I will not say when that chapter is coming out.

See ya all later!

Like? Hate? Let me know!


	6. Chapter 6: Unraveling Fate’s Tapestry

Hi everyone! As I have promise, here is the _full_ version of chapter six. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter S****ix: Unraveling ****F****ate's ****T****apestry **

Legolas smiled as he watched his young pupil hook an arrow onto his bow. Ten years had passed since young Estel had come into the care of the Elves and many things had change since then.

Bartemius Crouch was fired by the new Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, after the public called for the blood of the one who falsely condemned the godfather of the boy-who-lived to Azkaban without trial. The minister along with his senior undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge, proceeded to blame the 'dark' magical 'beasts' and 'unknown' death eaters.

Nicholas released the arrow and glare as the arrow embedded into the last ring of the practice ring. Legolas chuckled. "Glaring, Estel, won't make it jump to the center."

"Neither does shooting them." Nicholas muttered as he released another arrow. He scowled as it struck a tree.

"It would help if you took the time to properly aim."

Nicholas frowned. "You release the arrow seconds after you pull back the string."

"Only because that all the time I need to correctly hit the target now after years of practice." Legolas shook his head. "However, youngling, there was a time where I was no better then you are now."

Nicholas glanced at the off target arrow before looking back at Legolas. "That had to be a long time ago."

Legolas chuckled. "Indeed."

Nicholas sighed. "Will I be able to reach your level someday?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow but remained silent for several moments. "I will not lie to you, Estel. It is possible, but very unlikely. For one, it would take many years of hard work to even come close. A task many humans find impossible for their strengths wanes as their youth leaves them. You are not an exception to this. Though you do have elven blood, it is very thin and will not slow passage of time for you. Your lifespan will probably be only slightly longer than the average human. But, despite that, the only way to truly tell if you will reach elven skill with a bow is to keep practicing."

"How long did it take you take to reach your level?"

"I have more years of practice then you had days of breathing, youngling, and to this day I'm still perfecting my skills."

Nicholas's green eyes clouded over before he shook his head and bent down, carving numbers into the ground with an arrow while mumbling. "Roughly thirty days in a month—sometimes more, sometimes less, but let's stick with thirty for now. I've been on this world for ten years nearly eleven, but he said more then so let's stick with eleven. Now there are twelve months in a year, so multiply 30 by 12 and get 360 now times that by 11 and we get…" He glanced up Legolas his eyes slightly widen. "3,960 years? And yet you have even more years of practice?"

Legolas chuckled. "I have easily more than that, Estel, but excellent calculations. I see that you are doing well in your math lessons with my father."

"Either I put all my effort into his sessions or he assigns so much homework that it's nearly impossible to finish before the next time we meet." He struck the ground with arrow while continuing. "And if I don't get it done then he cuts into my free time to hold additional lessons!"

Legolas smiled and shook his head. "But when you're attentive and trying your hardest in your lessons he then barely assign the extra work and if he does, very lightly, doesn't he?"

Nicholas sulked. "Yeah."

"And are the rest of us any different in that regard?"

"You're more lenient, more…patient, so are the rest of them." Again he stabbed at the ground with the arrow. "He probably would be too if he was teaching an elven child."

His last comment was spoken in a harsh whispered that would have gone unnoticed by human hearing, but Legolas heard him and sighed. He knelt beside the young child and gently took the arrow from him. "No child, that is not true."

Nicholas snorted. "He doesn't like humans—that's well known. And I'm human!"

"And you're finally acting as childish as your age suggests you to be."

Nicholas looked up at Legolas his eyes clouded in confusion. "Huh? What do you mean by that?"

"Simply, that at the moment your acting more like a normal human child your age would." Legolas chuckled, noticing Nicholas confusion deepened. "Estel, you fail to realize that because you were raise within the elven cultures that you had matured at a different rate than others would have around your age. It is true that you take responsibility more seriously than most others your age and will not slack on your schooling, usually, but you were raise with those standards. Mentally, you are very mature, but emotionally, Estel, you are still a child and probably more immature then other humans your age. I'm afraid we may have cuddled you a little too much."

Nicholas glared. "I resent that."

Legolas shook his head. "I'm sure you do. But it is how it is. Elves are very protective of their young and as thus emotionally the elven children are allowed to mature at a far slower rate. But that is mainly because our young don't age as fast as you do Estel. But this is where the problem lays, child."

"Why is it a problem?" Nicholas asked.

"We raised you in our ways, Estel, and many of us still see you as a youngling that needs shielding from the harsh world, when we know you're not. Within seven years humans will consider you a legal adult, and as thus we have to prepare you to be ready for adulthood. For us, it is hard to find the balance needed in order to raise you so you are ready for the life ahead. But, at the same time, some of us do not want to relent on our protection to keep you from the harsher aspects of reality—to allow you to grow up. I believe that Glorfindel has it a bit of an easier time with this since he helped Elrond raise Aragorn."

Nicholas nodded and bit his lip before narrowing his eyes. "That still doesn't explain Thranduil's treatment of me."

"Yes, it does. You were raised among us, Estel, and as thus you are consider one of us. You are also related to four elven lords no matter how many generations removed. Because of this and how you yourself act the majority of the time you are consider an elven child despite being human. Most of elves hold you to elven standards not that of human's, but we have to keep in mind your lifespan."

"But-"

"It is true that my father is not fond of humans and he has made no secret of this."

Nicholas scowled and nodded.

"Yet he's not treating you as a human child, Estel."

Nicholas stood and glared at Legolas. "What?! How can you say that when he-"

Legolas shook his head. "He's treating you as an elven prince under his guidance. One that must learned to uphold his duties."

Harry stared at him. "Where do you get _that_ conclusion?"

"Simple. He's teaching you the same way he once taught me." Harry's eyes widen and Legolas chuckled and rose. "In the past if I had showed a bit of slack my father would assigned me extra work or extra lessons with him or with a tutor when he couldn't see to it personally. It wasn't often when extra lessons were done by tutors for we would hold them in the throne room if a situation wasn't dire enough to be concealed from young ears. I remember many times when my father would listen to the scouts reports while I sat next to him doing my lessons, be it math or the duties that a prince had to fulfill."

"Did he take away your free time too?"

Legolas laughed. "Many times. That was one of the things we clashed with most in fact. For example, I failed to appear to a lesson simply because I lost track of time, mind you, that was around the time that I was just started to hit the innermost ring while I working on my archery. I didn't hit dead center, but it was an improvement. But for the next two weeks I wasn't allowed to be away from my father side."

"That must have been a long time ago."

"Indeed."

"How long ago was it?"

"It was several hundred of years before the second ring war."

"And that was?"

"Before Aragorn was crowned King of Gondor."

Nicholas crossed his arms and pouted. "But how long ago was that?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "I believe Glorfindel and Elrohir informed you of those events and several others in your history lessons when you asked why no one knew that Elves exist, or at least, ones that weren't being called house-elves."

"Yeah." Nicholas frowned. "But they use terms as Second Age, Third Age and the beginning of the Fourth Age—that doesn't tell me very much of how long ago it took place. I asked, but they informed me that after they cover the more recent and _known_ history in our lesson that they will go back and cover what the world forgot in greater details included how long ago it was. It had to be a long time ago if everyone has forgotten about it."

"It was a long time ago."

"So? How long ago? And you were one of the fellowship, right? I think that what Uncle El said anyways. What were the other members like? And was the Dark Lord that powerful? His power and life was connected to a ring, correct? But why would he do that? It became his weakness and flaw, didn't it? Glorfindel and Uncle El didn't give me many details saying that it's a story for a later lesson."

"Curious child." Legolas commented as he leaned against a tree. "Yes, I was part of the fellowship along with eight others—four hobbits, two humans, one dwarf, and one Istari. And yes it was many ages ago. I could tell you many stories about the different members of the fellowship. Sauron was very powerful with several different types of minions and his life and power was indeed tied to his ring. When the ring was destroyed so was he, but the ring itself was dangerous with only one way to destroy it—by casting it into the very fires it was forged from, which lied in the heart of Mordor. And because his life was tied to the ring he did not die in the first war, but…"

Legolas paused as he recalled the words of the prophecy and the events of the past. Both dark lords had fallen in the first wars. _Born as the seventh month dies with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord_. Both had creatures of terrible darkness under his control—Sauron with the Nazgul and Voldemort with the Dementors. And both dark lords had feared a line or a person, which in the end that fear gave that person more power.

_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal_. Aragorn, the equal against Sauron, chosen or not, by the broken sword of Nursil that was later remade into Anduril, the flame of the west, and Harry marked as Voldemort equal by the scar on his forehead.

_He will have a power the Dark Lord knows not._ Aragorn had the willpower to resist the call of the one ring and later unit the race of men. And Harry? Would king's son power be similar to his ancestor? Would the elven way be the strength that Voldemort knows not?

_Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. _Did it mean literally or did it mean to be the drive that brings together the force that defeats the Dark Lord. Ages ago it had been Aragon that had united the race of men that fought the forces of Sauron, but it was Frodo and Sam who had destroyed the Ring that killed Sauron. But if Aragorn hadn't brought the united force of men to the gates of Mordor and fought Sauron's army which distracted the Dark Lord would Frodo and Sam have gotten to heart of Mordor to destroy the ring? What path was Harry to take—a path like his ancestor, Frodo, or neither?

He could remember years back when Voldemort had fallen the first time. No body had been found and even the elves were unsure what had happen to the dark lord. But they could tell by the whispers on the wind that he would one-day return like Sauron once did. Did they fail to see how similar the two dark lords were? There powers were different, true, and Voldemort seem by far weaker in comparison, but did he manage to do what Sauron did and link himself with an object? If that was the case…

Legolas closed his eyes. "He came back, but not in a physical body."

"It was in a form of an eye wasn't? Wasn't there something called the mouth of Sauron?"

Legolas blinked before looking into Nicholas eager face. "Yes, but this tale is too long to tell when we should continue our archery lesson."

Nicholas groaned. "But—"

"I'm sure Glorfindel and Elrohir will tell you the story soon enough. Now take your stance and let's correct that aim."

"Not fair Uncle Leggy."

"I'm going to kill Elrohir for starting that."

Nicholas sniggered. "No you won't."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"

"You'll have to catch him first."

"My arrow will meet it mark just fine, right in his—"

Nicholas eyes widen as he laughed. "Uncle Leggy!"

"What?" Legolas shrugged. "You weren't the one Elrohir use to escape from the she-elves."

"What about she-elves?" Elrohir asked as he approached the two.

Nicholas sat down on the ground. "You were using Uncle Leggy as bait to get rid of them."

"Oh yes. It always worked too." Elrohir smiled, ignoring Legolas glare and handed Nicholas a letter. "This came for you today."

Opening the letter Nicholas began to read it out loud.

"_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin. First class, Grand __Sorc__Chf__. Warlock, Supreme __Mugwump__, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Green;_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary book and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall __Deputy Headmistress"_

He looked up and stared at his uncle. "I get to go to Hogwarts?"

"Of course, Estel, were not going to keep you from your birthright." Elrohir answered.

"Yet," Nicholas muttered, "You won't allow me to go outside of the borders on my own."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "The last time you sneak passed the borders you decided to wonder off the known paths and become someone's lunch."

Nicholas frowned. "I would've been fine if the bloody things didn't have eight legs."

"Estel, you had walked right into their nesting grounds, if Haldir and the other scouts weren't patrolling near there at the time you would dead now." Elrohir commented, crossing his arms.

"I didn't mean to find trouble."

Elrohir chuckled. "No, perhaps not, but trouble enjoys finding you." He leaned against a tree and questioned. "Now do want to go get your things at Diagon Alley or not? If you don't hurry, Elladan is going to leave without you."

Nicholas grinned and ran towards his quarters shouting over his shoulder. "It will just take a couple minutes to get ready, Uncle El."

Elrohir shook his head and yelled after him. "Remember to keep your contacts in."

"Elrohir we need to hold a meeting after Elladan has returned from his trip with Estel." Legolas stated once Nicholas was out of earshot.

"Something came up?"

"You could say that." Legolas replied. Watching as the young child disappear from view, Legolas found it ironic that if the seventh month part was dropped from the prophecy it could almost be applied to Aragorn as well as his descendent.

* * *

Nicholas smiled as he glanced over his shoulder and watched as the doorway to Diagon Alley shirked back into a normal wall. "I'll never get tired of watching that." 

Elladan chuckled. "This has only been your third outing to Diagon Alley, Estel. I'll bet you'll fail to remember to look back to watch after four more times."

"I will not, Uncle Dan." Nicholas pulled his list out before glancing around. "What store are we going to first? And can we visit the bank this time around? Can I have a broom? On that note, when will I be allowed to ride a broom? I know wizards and witches can do so. Or perhaps I can get a pet? Something besides an owl, like a cat. Is there a joke shop here—I can't remember."

Elladan weaved his way through the crowed, answering. "Ollivanders. No. No. You can ride a broom when you learn to fly at Hogwarts and can do so safely. You don't need another pet. There is a joke shop but we're not visiting it."

Nicholas sighed. "Should've of known that a bunched a questions thrown together wouldn't have thrown you off. Why aren't we going to the bank?"

"There's no need for it."

"We never go to Gringotts."

Elladan stop in front of Ollivanders and frowned. "You haven't. I have gone a couple of times. It's an experience a like to keep to a minimum."

"Bad service, then?"

"Not exactly."

"Then why?"

Elladan sighed and leaned against the side of the shop. "Estel, Gringotts is run by Goblins. Not long ago they wouldn't hesitate killing or betraying anyone if it suited their purpose."

"Then why do some many people trust their money to them."

"Humans forget, Estel, and there is no longer a human alive that remembers those times."

Nicholas looked up at his uncle, exasperated. "Meaning it was a long time ago and the goblins got a lesson served to them on a silver platter. Couldn't it be possible that the goblins have changed their ways by now? I have read some of the history on the goblin's wars by what's-his-name and it dealt with a conflict within their own culture."

"Mirathilda Walfyshot-a human that was never there during the wars. You should read the elven scripts of those wars—there are much more accurate."

"Why? Because they still remember it?" Nicholas replied bitterly.

Elladan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Nicholas?"

"Sorry."

Elladan laid a hand on Nicholas's shoulder and squeezed it softly. "Come with me, Nicholas." He led them back through the crowd and reopened the entrance.

Nicholas froze, before shaking his head. "It's nothing, really. We don't need to leave yet. We still haven't got anything on our list, yet. And-"

"It can wait until after we have our talk."

"But-"

"We'll come back, Nicholas, I promise. Now come."

Nicholas nodded and followed his uncle into the Leaky Cauldron where he asked to rent a room for a day. After bidding Tom goodbye he trailed after Elladan, asking, "Isn't renting a room a bit much for a talk?"

"No, Estel, it grants us a chance to talk away from prying eyes. We do not have to guard our tongue quite as much here."

"Oh."

Elladan gestured Nicholas to take a seat before leaning against the wall. "Would you mind telling me what really bothers you? I doubt it the fact that us elves remember the goblin's wars."

Nicholas looked away from his uncle. "It's nothing."

"If it was nothing there wouldn't have been bitterness in your voice when you spoke of remembering."

Nicholas closed his eyes and sighed. He was being ridiculous. It was just a nightmare, nothing more. But why of late did he keep dreaming of a green light and woman's scream.

He clenched his hands. He was happy with his life. Why was this happening?

"The nightmares have returned, haven't they?" Elladan questioned.

Nicholas snapped his opened and fell back in shock at seeing his uncle kneeling before him. "Don't do that, Uncle Dan! You nearly gave me a heart attack! Couldn't you have made at least a little noise?"

Elladan chuckled. "I'll remember to throw something next time."

Nicholas glared at his uncle before sighing. "I keep dreaming of a green light and a woman's screaming. Why do I keep getting this nightmare?"

Elladan closed his eyes and remained silent.

"Uncle Dan?"

He sighed. "It's not a nightmare, Estel, but a memory. I'm surprise you can still remember it being so young when it happened. But horrible memories do leave a scar."

Nicholas gasped. "A memory, but then who was the woman that screaming?"

Elladan sighed and looked out the window.

"Uncle."

Elladan frowned and remained silent for several moments before answering. "That woman would have been your mother if my guess is correct."

"But-but that means..."

Elladan laid a hand on Nicholas shoulder and squeeze. "Yes, Estel, you were there when the dark lord attack your parents."

"Why didn't I die then? The dark lord didn't spare children or least that what you and Glorfindel said in our history lessons."

"We're not sure, Estel, all we can guess is that your mother manage to protect you in the end."

"Oh. Where were you and Uncle El?"

"Hunting." Elladan answered as he stood up and headed towards the door.

Nicholas clenched his hands and stood. "What prey was more important than my parents?"

Elladan paused in the doorway for a moment. "Voldemort."

* * *

A tinkling bell rang somewhere within the depth of the shop as they entered. Nicholas stopped and stared at the thousand of narrow boxes piled neatly up to the ceiling. The very air within the shop seemed to hum with a hidden magic. He swallowed and glanced at his uncle. "He certainly takes his job seriously. Is Hogwarts going to feel something like this?" 

Elladan smiled. "It's quite possibly. What do you feel that is different here then from home?"

Nicholas crossed his arms and frowned. "You're turning this into a lesson."

Elladan chuckled. "It's a good one to learn, Nicholas. It makes you focus on your surroundings and knowing such things could very well save your life one day."

Nicholas nodded before replying. "It's feels like we have entered a library—an old library. But home… home is like stepping back into the far past? Like time has stop—I don't know. I'm sounding mental, aren't I?"

Elladan laughed. "No you're not. Our home had that effect on many people in the past."

"Oh."

"Good afternoon." A person said in a soft voice. Nicholas jumped and turned, spotting an old man standing before them. He glanced back at his uncle and noticed the amuse look in his grey eyes. Nicholas scowled at him before bringing his attention back to the shopkeeper.

"Hello. I'm Nicholas Green. I'm here to get a wand."

"Ah. Yes." The man said and leaned closer, starring at the jagged diamond-like scar on his forehead. Nicholas raised an eyebrow while leaning away from the old man. His silvery eyes were a little creepy to look into though it was nothing like the intense stares the elves gave off. But did he have to stand so close?

"Peculiar scar you have there, Mr. Green."

Nicholas frowned and stepped closer to his uncle. He didn't like uneasy feeling he got when Mr. Ollivander was studying his scar. What was so fascinating about it anyways? "I'm a curious child, Mr. Ollivander, and scars are often the result of adventures."

Ollivander eyed Elladan with a strange look in his eyes before backing away from him. "Yes. Yes. Of course, Mr. Green." Nicholas glanced back at Elladan, receiving a wink and a mischievous smile from him. Why did he have a feeling that his uncle glared the shopkeeper away from him? "Now, which is your wand arm?"

"Well, I'm right handed if that helps." Nicholas answered.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Nicholas from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Green. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Nichols watched as Ollivander flittering around the room while wishing the type measure would stop already.

"That will do." Ollivander told the tape measure as it was measuring his nostrils causing it to crumple to the floor. "Right then, Mr. Green. Try this one. Beech-wood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Nicholas glanced at his uncle before taking the wave and gave it a small wave before Mr. Ollivander snatched it away.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try—"

Nicholas barely raised the wand before it too was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no—here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, and try it out."

Nicholas tried and tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become. Nicholas glanced back at his amused uncle and glared. "This is not funny."

Elladan chuckled. "It's all a matter of opinion, nephew. But this is turning into an unexpected lesson of patience. One I believed you needed."

"I have that _lesson_ to many times already."

"Never hurts to enforce such a lesson though."

Nicholas pouted. "That's a matter of opinion.

Mr. Ollivander pulled another box off from the shelves. "Bit a tricky customer, Mr. Green. Not to worry though, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere. It is the wand that chooses the wizard, remember… It's possible to predict some things of a wizard from the wand that picks them. Once I sold a similar wand to this only it was made out of willow instead of mahogany—swishy and nice for charm work. Lily Potter took that that one home and she turn out to one of the best Charm student that Wizdary world had seem in many years."

Nicholas barely gave the wand a wave before Mr. Ollivander snatched it back. "Not for you I see. I wander, yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Nicholas took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot out from the end like a firework, throwing a dancing spots of light onto the walls. Elladan smiled and stood as Mr. Ollivander cried. "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh , very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

He put Nicholas's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious…curious…"

"Excuse me," Nicholas asked, "But what do you mean by curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Nicholas with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Green. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why its brother gave the boy-who-lived his scar." Mr. Ollivander raised his stare to Elladan. "It's curious that you, Mr. Green should receive this wand instead of young Mr. Harry Potter whom seems to be missing so far."

"It is odd indeed. Perhaps you'll have your answer to your wonderings one day, Mr. Ollivander. "Elladan answered as he stood behind Nicholas.

"Perhaps. I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Green… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great. It will be seven gold Galleons, please."

Nicholas shivered. Mr. Ollivander was a little creepy for his taste. It was almost like suggesting that he was someone other than who he was. Hopefully the Hogwart's teachers weren't like that or he would rather be back home with his studies under Thranduil. After his uncle paid for the wand they left and he was glad to get away from that unnerving stare.

* * *

Remus set the papers down on the table before sending a mild glare at the old women smoking and drinking sherry in the corner. Why did he agree to wait for Sirius here in the Leaky Cauldron after he had completed his own task in Diagon Alley? He knew what the astrosphere did to his senses. He could already feel the headache building, though not nearly as bad as he had gotten them during potion class during his youth. 

He sighed. He just _had_ to be the 'good' friend and try to keep Sirius from getting drunk after coming back from the meeting with the people claiming that they found 'Harry'. He didn't see the point of continuing going to meet these people that claim to have him. They never did. The child in question was usually their own kid charmed and scared or under the influence of a potion to look supposedly like Harry. They mostly model them after James though some got created and mix the features of James and Lily together. But the combinations were rarely ever correct. And when the features were correct the test results always came back negative. It was amusing to see what a red hair "Harry" might have looked like after getting over the anger of the couple trying to trick them. Never the less, the couple didn't care much for Sirius revenge prank. Remus thought that would have discouraged people from claiming something false. It didn't.

These types of people only wanted one of two things—fame, or the Potter inheritance, or both. After ten years of the same situations Remus would have thought Sirius would've understand that he would have to wait until the mysterious L person brought him back. And Remus suspected that he would return Harry in the same fashion that he took him—abruptly and without anyone knowing. He would probably give the headmaster a note stating something like: He returns to face his destiny. L.

Remus did wonder how many time this L person had to guess before he said the correct password to the Headmaster's office or if he had already known it beforehand.

Remus sighed before raising his wand, casting some charms to repel the smoke away from him and went back to the teacher's note that he was reading before. A half an hour later and Sirius plop himself into the chair in front of him muttering angrily.

"Another false Harry I take it." Remus flipped another page of the notes and grimaced. "The students are going to behind in Defense this year. This Lockwood fellow didn't teach him anything useful."

Sirius snarled, "I wish people would stop wasting my time with these fakes!"

"You should stop answering them."

"I can't, Moony." Sirius sighed. "There is always the small chance that one of them might have the real Harry."

"You're living in a fantasy, Padfoot. You'll just have to wait till this L. person makes his move."

"Whatever." Sirius raised one hand in the air. "Yo, Tom! I'll have a—"

"Butterbeer! He'll have a butterbeer, Tom!" Remus interrupted.

"Coming right up." Tom replied, floating a bottle of butterbeer over to Sirius.

Sirius frowned. "I wanted something stronger, Moony."

"Too bad."

"Yo, Tom! I—"

"Try it and I'll order water in its stead."

"I'll get my order in eventually."

Remus tapped his wand against the table. "You won't if you can't talk."

Sirius frowned. "You use to let James and I do what we wanted. You barely trying to stop us really. Why this show of force over one drink?"

"That was then, this is now." Remus put the notes away into his tattered briefcase. "Getting drunk Padfoot won't help you heal."

Sirius crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "It has been a year since I was wounded, Remus, I can handle teaching again. I can certainly handle a drink."

"You nearly died last time, Sirius. The DADA curse is growing stronger. It doesn't want us back and yet we keep going back. It took me two years to recover enough from the wounds I received last time for Albus to approve of me teaching at Hogwarts again."

"Your case was different. You had the bad luck of coming in contact with silver. I'm still not sure how that happened though. But it caused your immune system to practically shut down. Plus it caused some pretty lethal wounds. So of course it's going to take longer for you to heal up. It's a miracle that you survive, Moony. But I'm healed up enough to teach again."

Remus took a gulp of his butterbeer before sighing. "You're not listening, Sirius. The curse wants us dead because we keep coming back. You may be healed enough to teach, but not enough to handle what that curse is going to throw at you. That's the very reason why Albus told you no when you request to teach this year DADA class. Face it, Sirius, one day we are going to have quit teaching DADA whether or not it's before Harry graduates from Hogwarts—if he goes to Hogwarts."

Sirius scowled. "If it's so dangerous and it's not for Harry then why do you keep applying for the DADA position?"

"To keep you from getting yourself killed!"

"I don't need you to protect me!"

"Well someone has to watch your back cause you certainly don't!"

"I don't—"

Remus glared at him. "Look. Neither of us is going to agree on this point so just drop it. Whether or not you like it I'm teaching DADA this year and you are on leave with miscellaneous jobs that Albus gives you. If you want to teach at Hogwarts so badly again then get yourself in better shape. Shape enough to beat the order's aurors then Albus might agree for you to teach again. And you might find that not getting yourself drunk helps."

Sirius eyes had widened slightly in shock as he stared at him. "What happened to the Remus I knew during our Hogwarts days?"

"He died a year ago when you nearly died. I lost too many friends to lose another because of cockiness or being stupid. I not going to sit back and watch you rush headfirst into things without thinking things through anymore, Sirius. I'm going to make you think of the consequences of your actions even if it means getting in your face and pushing back."

"Because cockiness or being stupid?" Sirius scowled. "You're starting to sound like Snape, Remus."

"A side effect of working with the man." Remus shrugged. "Though not right in many things when concerning you he does have a point in others. You don't always consider the after affect of things, Sirius."

Sirius glared at him before he gulped down some of his butterbeer down. "So have you already grabbed you-know-what from that vault Albus sent you too?"

Remus nodded and patted his left pocket. "I have it right here."

"Do you honestly believe that it be safer at Hogwarts?"

"I don't know, but that is what Albus believes."

Sirius looked down at his empty glass, frowning. "Moony?"

"Yeah, Padfoot?"

"You do know that I'll watch your back right?"

"Yes, old friend, I know."

Remus sighed. "We should get going."

Slowly the sounds of a person clapping filled the air as the conversations died inside the pub so they could stare at the dark haired man sitting at the table behind them. He was dress in black slacks with a white dress shirt tucked in and a grey cloak was wrapped around him. He clapped slow uneven beats for several moments before clapping faster. Slow. Fast. Slow. Slower. Faster. Faster. Slow. Fast. Remus could not pick up a pattern to the irregular claps if there was one. He doubted it.

"Ah. The perfect beat for my new song." The dark haired man exclaimed, before jotting something down on the papers messily arrange across the table.

Sirius leaned towards Remus. "Tone death that one."

Remus nodded in agreement before speaking to stranger. "Does your song have a name, Mr.?" Remus ignore Sirius hiss of "Why do you want know that?"

"Adam Walker is my name sir." He said, smiling up at Remus, before glances down at his notes. "A name, I really should name it, shouldn't I?"

"He's an escapee from St. Mungo I swear." Sirius whispered to Remus.

"Be nice, Padfoot." Remus hissed back.

"How can I be escapee from St. Mungo if I have never been there, Sir?" Adam questioned Sirius with a raise eyebrow.

Sirius eyes widen in shock before muttering, "Bloody sharp hearing."

"Thank you, sir." Adam replied, nodding his head towards Sirius direction. "I believe I shall name my song Ngurhoth (were-wolf host)."

"Is that even a word?" Sirius asked Remus.

"I don't think so, Padfoot." Remus answered.

"Like I said: mental."

After thanking Adam for his time Remus gestured to Sirius to follow him and started to head towards the exit. "Perhaps, but I think Albus would've like him."

"Moony, Albus may be a great wizard and all but he himself is a tad mental. So of course Albus is going to like him."

"Well there is a muggle phrase that states that there is a fine line between genius and insanity."

They turned the corner and Remus slammed into a blond stranger before falling against Sirius.

The blond stranger narrowed his cold brown eyes as he glared down at them. He was dress in black slacks with a silver dress shirt tucked in and a grey cloak was wrapped around him. He sighed before he sighed and held a hand out. "Sorry about that. I had a bad day of business. Neither of you are hurt though, right?"

Remus straightened himself. "No harm down, Mr.?"

"Or sure, now Hogwarts Remus returns." Sirius muttered.

"Celeb Woods. If you excuse me I'm late to a meeting with a friend. And knowing him he has probably driven someone mad by now."

"Who's your friend?" Sirius asked.

"I doubt you know him but his name is Adam Walker."

"Are you sure that it not he himself that is insane?" Sirius questioned.

"Sirius Black!"

"What?"

Celeb laughed. "Don't be fooled, Mr. Black, is it? My friend is quite sane but he knows how to hit other people's buttons just right to make them uneasy."

"Whatever you say—I still think he's insane."

Remus quietly stepped on Sirius foot, ignoring Sirius protest and demands. "It was good to meet you Mr. Woods but we must be on our way as well.

Celeb nodded his head. "Of course. Farewell then."

After Celeb had entered the Leaky Cauldron, Remus stepped off Sirius foot. "Padfoot, when will you ever learn, old friend that some things are better left unsaid?"

Sirius scowled. "Let's go to Hogwarts already."

* * *

Nicholas paused in the doorway to Madam Malkin's shop to look back at his uncle. "Umm, Uncle Dan, aren't you coming?" 

"Not this time, Nicholas. I'm going to go gather your books while you get fitted for your robes."

Nicholas snickered. "You just don't meet up with Madam Malkin's assistant again."

"That's not it." Elladan shook his head. "Beside, the young lady would understand I wasn't interested if she stopped confusing me with my brother. However she seems to prefer to believe that I don't have a twin and refuses to believe otherwise."

"So, you're running away."

"No, I'm avoiding unnecessary conflict."

"Riiiight. Avoiding conflict."

Elladan shook his head. "Nicholas, one of these days you will understand why some people of the female gender should be avoided at almost any cost, though that could be said about the male gender as well."

"Like the manager at the Apothecary" Nicholas snickered.

"I blame that completely on my brother." Elladan muttered. "Now, go get your robes and I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

Chuckling, Nickolas said goodbye to his uncle and entered the shop.

"Hogwarts, dear?" Madam Malkin said as Nickolas began to speak. "Got the lot here—another young man is being fitted up just now, in fact."

Nickolas snickered as he spotted the assistant witch pinning up the robbed of a blonde hair boy. He stood on the stool next to him as Madam Malkin slipped a long robe over his head and started to pin it to the correct length. "I should've figured that I would meet you here, again." They had met three years ago during one of his rare outings to Diagon Alley and ever since then they been writing to each other. His uncles were happy about the event. Draco's parents were not.

"Hogwarts, too?" Draco said. "Figures. Predicable, Green."

"Whatever, Drac, where are your parents anyways?"

"My father's next door buying books—"

Nickolas groaned. "That's not good."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"My uncle is over there getting my books."

Draco winced. "Which one?"

"Uncle Dan."

"Isn't he the one that is most level headed out of your uncles? Besides he wouldn't be able to beat my father."

Nicholas snorted. "Don't come complaining to me if your father comes back with a broken nose and that would be if he got off lucky."

"It wouldn't happen. What do they have against my father, anyways? It's not like your family is bad off. I've seen you wearing silk shirts before."

Nicholas shrugged then apologies when Madam Malkin reprimanded him for moving. "Don't know, but it doesn't help that he hits you with that stupid cane of his."

Draco narrowed his eyes his voice lowered in a warning. "Green."

"Well, it doesn't." Nicholas muttered before asking, "Where's your mother?"

"She is up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Nicholas stared at ceiling in boredom wondering when the newest rant from his friend was going to end.

"Have you got a broom, yet?"

"Nope"

"Your uncles still haven't let you play Quidditch yet, have they?"

"Nope. They believe firmly in having your feet on the ground unless you're climbing."

"Pathetic, Green."

"Looks who's talking."

Draco scowled.

Before Draco could comment, Madam Malkin interrupted, "That's you done, my dear."

Nicholas nodded and stepped down from the stool. "We can finish this when we get to school; right now I need to go meet my uncle. Later."

* * *

Dumbledore sighed as he leaned against the chair in his office. He glanced at the high piled of papers that were sitting on his desk that needed to be attended to before the beginning of term. He wasn't going to get out of his office for the rest of the day. 

He sighed again and grabbed the envelope at the top, opened it, and began to read.

_Dear Headmaster Dumbledore of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry:_

_It has come to the attention of the ministry of your inability of ensuring the safety of the staff of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry. Due to the past buildings of consisted years of fatal to near fatal wounds occurring to individuals holding the position of Professor of the Defense against the Dark Arts, this board believes certain steps are necessary to guarantee the safety of the staff and students. To this end, two Ministry's employees are to be stationed at Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry for the duration of the school year. _

_Chosen to oversee the DADA class by Amelia Susan Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, is Auror Kingsley McKay Shacklebolt. Second chosen by Cornelius Oswald Fudge, the Minister of __Magic__ is Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. _

_You can expect their arrival__ at Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry on September 1__st_

A knocking sound echoed through the room and Dumbledore raised his head from the letter. "Come in, Minerva, come in."

"Albus, we have a problem." Professor McGonagall said as she stopped in front of his desk.

"And what is this problem?"

McGonagall handed a piece of parchment to Headmaster. "Read this."

Looking down at the letter, Dumbledore began reading:

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin. First class, Grand __Sorc__Chf__. Warlock, Supreme __Mugwump__, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter;_

_We are pleased to inform you…_

Dumbledore glanced up at McGonagall. "May I ask why it is necessary for me to read Mr. Potter acceptance letter?"

"Read the bottom."

Skipping to the bottom of the letter he reads:

_The time has not yet come for his return. L._

Dumbledore frowned. "Minvera, what did the quill write for the address of Mr. Potter."

"No place I have heard of, Albus. But I had made another copy regardless." McGonagall answered, handing Dumbledore an envelope.

He glanced down, reading the address.

**Harry Potter**

**Mirkwood**_****_

"Odd." Dumbledore muttered. He rested his chin on his hands.

"Headmaster, what are we going to do?"

"Nothing."

McGonagall's eyes widened. "But Headmaster, surely there is something—"

"I'm afraid there is nothing we can do until we figure out where this Mirkwood is or this mysterious L being decides it's time for Mr. Potter to return."

McGonagall glared at Albus. "Surely there is something we can do? A tracking spell on the next letter perhaps?"

"Somehow I doubt a simple tracking spell will do it, Minerva."

"It could lead us to him, Albus."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, yes it could. Or L. could pick the letter up and send the letter on its merry way through the ocean. Or perhaps tie it to another owl and lead us on a chase around the world. Though I have to say I always meant go sightseeing sometime, perhaps I'll have a chance yet."

"Really Albus—"

"We'll just have to wait. We'll see him again."

"What's makes you so certain?" McGonagall questioned.

"His destiny is within our world, Minerva."

McGonagall nodded slowly. "Hopeful they are taking good care of them, though I don't suppose it be hard compare to the care he may have receive with the Dursley's."

Dumbledore frowned. "You're not going let me forget that anytime soon are you?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"I had no way of knowing that they would be so bad at child-raising."

"Well apparently L. did some catlike observations."

"It could have been worse or perhaps they would be firmer if they had another child with them."

"Yes your right it could've been worse. Jail would have been worst for the _poor_ muggle boy after all St. Brutes is such a _fine_ school for _troubling _children. But sadly there was no scapegoat to pass the blame onto when other children's parents started to press charges. I must say it was a very sad report that Mrs. Frig gave us. But certainly another boy in the house could have straightened matters out so that _poor_ cousin wouldn't have _taken_ such a turn."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I walk right into that one, didn't I?"

"I fail to see where you walking to begin with, Headmaster."

"Alas I believe it would be safer to refrain from commenting on that."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow before taking a seat.

"I trust that arrangements have already been made for the stone arrival."

McGonagall nodded. "Severus is finishing up the potions as we speak."

"Good good." His eyes shifted to the door at the knocking sound. "Come in Remus, Sirius."

"One of these days Albus, I'm going to figure out how you do that, if only to bug Snape."

Sirius joked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Remus do you have the stone with you?"

Remus reached into his pocket. "I have it right…" He searched his other pocket, frowning.

"Remus, what is it, my boy?"

Remus looked up, his face pale. "The stone, it's gone."

* * *

"You, my friend, need to stick to whistling your codes." Celeb stated as he appeared besides Adam, deep within the woods of Mirkwood. 

"Well if you haven't been late Celebeth, I wouldn't have reverted to impractical way of getting a message to you. I couldn't very well have whistle over noise of the crowed. And talking in Sindarin would only have made me look like a mad man."

Celebeth chuckled. "I believed you had already succeeded in the mad look, Iselasea."

"Mental, that one." Iselasea quoted Sirius from earlier.

Celebeth laughed. "Yes. Mr. Black never does seem to be able to keep his comments to himself."

"No. It's good to see that he has a permanent babysitter around at least until the school year starts." Iselasea stated as he stepped off the worn path and started to weave through the trees, waving to one of the elven watcher kneeling on one of the upper talans as he passed.

"Still the only thing I understood in that code was stone and left. I wouldn't have known which person I needed to target if was for your title."

Iselasea shrugged. "Excuses."

Celebeth snorted before taking the stone from his pocket. "What is stone supposed to be anyways?"

"I don't know."

Celebeth glared at Iselasea. "You mean to tell me that this thing might have nothing of importance to it."

"No." Iselasea shook his head. "It's important. They were using the wizard's secret talking method again."

Celebeth laughed. "They really are bad at that."

Iselasea nodded and mocked. "You-know-what."

"You-know-who."

"In-vault-in-you-know-which."

"He-who-must-not-be-named."

"The-boy-who-went-missing."

"The-boy-who-lived."

"The-place-you-know-where"

"Group-you-know-meets-you-know-when."

Iselasea shook his head. "Any idiot can tell there talking about something important. After that it's only a matter of following them to put the pieces together."

Celebeth slipped the stone back into his pocket. "Yes, much better to speak normal. Unless someone is actually spying on you, you're not going to draw attention or they need to learn to speak an uncommon language."

"Indeed, old friend."

Celebeth glared at Iselasea. "I'm not old."

Iselasea looked at Celebeth raising an eyebrow. "Oh, pardon me. Well then if you're not old and you're certainly not a youngling then you must be ancient. What would that make Haldir, Glorfindel, and our lords, I wonder?"

"Oh shut up."

"Very well, my elder companion," Iselasea smiled, "but before I do, allow me to thank you for taking charge of reporting to the lords."

"What?" Celebeth glared at Iselasea. "It's your turn."

Iselasea shrugged and placed a finger over his lips.

"I hate you."

* * *

"Ok, Leggy, what did you want us here for?" Elrohir questioned as he sat down into his chair. 

"I believe we may have overlooked some similarities between Voldemort and Sauron. One of which I believe will explain why Voldemort will come back."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "And your belief is…"

Legolas leaned forward in his seat. "I believe that his life force is connected to an item in a way similar to Sauron's. It's my belief that his body was destroyed the night he was defeated, but his spirit remained behind do to this connection."

Elladan nodded in thought. "It's possible and certainly makes sense, Legolas. However, it also likely that he was severely wounded and retreated to buy some time."

"He probably would've already begun attacking if that was the case." Elrohir interrupted.

Elladan glared at Elrohir. "You didn't let me finish."

"Opps."

Legolas shook his head. "I'm glad he's your brother and not mine, Elladan."

"I resent that." Elrohir fake a hurt look before continuing. "But back to the subject on hand, the similarities don't stop there. There are several, except when it comes to personal powers."

"No, Sauron would make Voldemort look like a child if you compare them by power alone." Celeborn commented as he folded his hands together. "But that isn't your only comparison is it? There something else you're noticing."

Legolas nodded. "Yes. History is repeating itself."

Thranduil raised his other eyebrow. "You believe that Voldemort's reign is repeating that of Sauron's. Or is it more than that?"

"More." Legolas answered.

Thranduil studied his son for several moments before commenting. "The problems of the dark lord aside you believe the other events from Middle-Earth are repeating and so are the more miscellaneous problems. The corrupted government being the obvious one. I believe the current situation in the ministry is reminding you of Denethor's rein in Gondor." Thranduil paused until Legolas nod and then continued. "I suppose the Nazgul and the Dementors are another connection you see. What I want to know, my son, is what made you to start to compare the eras now?"

Legolas held his father gazed for several moments before he responed. "The prophecy did, though not until Estel began to ask me question about Middle-Earth. If you leave out one small part of the prophecy it can easy applied to Aragorn or even Frodo in the past. The situations of the past and present are starting to mirror each other greatly on both sides. But it's more than that. I believe there is one event that is a great contrast to the past. Have the rest of you felt the change in the winds over the past couple of decades?" Legolas paused and looked around the table. After seeing everyone nod, he continued. "Eru Iluvatar used to try to call us home to the Valinor before becoming silent. Early this year I felt another shift in the winds. I believe Eru Iluvatar is calling for our kindred to return to this world."

Elrohir shook his head. "He might not be Legolas. Or he may be calling to a few. None of us can be certain of that. However we do know that those that stay behind did so to prevent the world from coming to an end. More or less anyways. And that alone is becoming constantly harder to do. In the last few millenniums several new races have come into existence while others have became extinct. If Eru Iluvatar is calling for our kindred to aid us it may very well be because this may be one battle we may not win. I fear if that the case the world will be completely left in the hands of men."

"The world would be doom if that occurred." Thranduil frowned. "They nearly did so a couple of times in the last century alone. Between magic and technology they have forgotten what is truly important."

"Both their magic and technology have help save many lives." Elladan stated.

"But it also ended twice as many." Celeborn replied. "And it won't do them any good if they don't stop poisoning the Earth."

"That much is true. But I can't help but think that Eru Iluvatar is up to something." Legolas commented.

Elrohir raised an eyebrow at Legolas. "Legolas, I hate to break it to you, but he the creator, of course he going to up to something."

Legolas look around the table. "Elladan, Glorfindel will either one of you hit him? I would but I have nothing to throw."

"Ah, poor Leggy, with—ouch! Elladan!"

"Thank you, Elladan. Now before I was interrupted, I remember a tale I heard from Gimli about their father Aule."

Thranduil snorted. "Must we hear this? The dwarves left existence several centuries ago. The few lines that still have that blood have been diluted by other races."

Legolas glared at his father before continuing. "According to their tales when they die they go to a different part of Mandos than we do. They go to one of the houses of the dead in the Halls of Awaiting. It's said that they wait there until the end of the world."

Elladan nodded. "After which the Final battle will occur and they will rebuild Arda with Aule. And in the end they will take their place beside Elves and Men and will be bless by Eru Iluvatar. I've had heard the tale."

Glorfindel leaned forward in his seat. "You believe the final battle is coming, don't you? Or that Eru Iluvatar and Aule are trying to rebuild Arda without letting it be destroyed?"

"It may very well be a little of both." Celeborn stated. "Back during the eras of Middle-Earth, the fight with Sauron nearly destroyed us. I have no doubt that if Sauron had won the world would have come to an end. Now we are facing an enemy that appears to be following some of Sauron's footsteps if the theory of Voldemort connecting his life-force to an object is true."

"This world is on the verge of change, much like it was during the third age. If we are going to survive it we must start preparing. Estel will need to be his told his birthright sooner than plan." Elladan glanced around the table, pausing briefly at each lord.

Celeborn nodded. "Agreed. Most likely he will need to be inform by the latest of next hear. Come next year his studies will need to be increase so he may survive the journey ahead."

Elrohir leaned back in his chair. "We still know very little about Voldemort. And now we must research on how he could have fused his life force with an item and what that object is. I have no doubt that this object will not be easy to destroy. We have lost ground early in this dilemma."

Thranduil nodded. "Both Celebeth and Iselasea came into report early this evening. Apparently Mr. Lupin was requested to move a stone from a Gringotts vault to Hogwarts by the request of Albus Dumbledore. They don't know what the stone is supposed to do only that the wizards were being quiet about it. Celebeth manage to relieve them of it and Gilendin is studying the stone now. Iselasea also reported that Remus Lupin will be the next Defense Professor."

"They are certainly brave to keep coming back despite nearly dying each time because of a curse." Elrohir commented.

"Foolish more like it." Thranduil countered.

Celeborn raised an eyebrow at Thranduil. "That could be said about many people. But while we are on the subject of Hogwarts, Eleniel has reported that the Ministry is sending two representatives to Hogwarts for the staff and students' safety. There is little public knowledge on either Kingsley Shacklebolt or Dolores Umbridge, but Eleniel and Dinrandir are looking into the matter."

Elrohir groan. "Can we keep Estel back a year? That woman is insufferable and without honor."

"Than don't confuse her into thinking that I am you." Elladan commented.

Legolas crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "And don't trying dumping her on me either."

"Can I give her to Voldemort? I swear the woman would drive him insane in seconds, well more than he already is anyways."

Celeborn shook his head. "Is she a threat to Estel."

Elrohir frowned. "Only if she believed that he is a threat to the Minister's power. It wouldn't take her long to believe that just about everything is a threat to his power, though. Someone should be sent to watch her and intervene if necessary."

"We will leave that task to you, Elrohir, since you have prior knowledge about the woman." Celeborn stated.

Elrohir groan. "You have to hate me to punish me with the presence of that woman."

Legolas chuckled. "Poor Elrohir, stuck with a woman he can't ditch."

"And you can join him in this mission, Legolas." Thranduil stated.

"Damn." Legolas cursed. From across the table, Elladan sat quietly looking out the window while Elrohir grinned.

Thranduil leaned back in his chair. "I will send Iselasea out to discover more about Voldemort."

Celeborn nodded. "Elenatan can research for possible ways for a person to connect their life to an object."

"Very well. I suppose this closes this special meeting and we are now back to reporting the normal monotonous things." Elrohir stated.

Elladan stared at his brother. "Elrohir."

Elrohir shrugged. "Well it's true."

* * *

Dumbledore sighed and rested his chin onto his folded hands. Things keep getting more complicated since they had discovered that young Harry Potter had been taken from the doorstep of Number four, Privet Drive. Many ridiculous laws had been passed over the years concerning the 'dark' beings, particular over werewolvesIf it wasn't for one small loophole in the latest law, Remus wouldn't have been able to teach at Hogwarts this year since he was a 'dark creature'. 

He pushed a stack of papers to the left side of his desk and leaned back in his chair. The earlier meeting was a disaster, but he was thankful that Severus had been busy at the time. He would have only made the situation worse with his grudges against Remus and Sirius. And that was a headache he would save for later.

But the Sorcerer's stone was gone and they had no way of knowing who took it, except that the only person they saw in the closest position of taking the stone was a Mr. Celeb Woods. But for now they can't do anything more than pray that Mr. Woods is not an enemy unless they manage to find him. Until then they will have to continue on like they still have the stone. To any outsider view they were still guarding something on the third floor.

A hoot brought his mind back to the present and he turned his attention to the owl on his desk. "Hello, there, and what do you have for me?" After taking the letter from the owl he began to read it.

_Dear Albus Dumbledore,_

_The brother's wand of Voldemort was sold to a Mr. Nicholas Green._

_Sincerely,_

_Ollivander._

Dumbledore shifted his gaze to Fawkes. "It looks like another person has joined the dance, old friend."

* * *

A dark haired elf stood at the end of the dock, watching the sun set as he stroked the feathers of the brown owl perched on his left arm. It had been many centuries since he had left the world of man and he yearned to hear news of his wondering sons. 

He closed his brown eyes and sighed as he felt the warm arms of his wife wrapped around his waist. "Finally taking my advice, beloved?" Celebrian asked. "I'm almost surprise that you didn't leave to search for them yourself."

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "That would've been foolish, my love. I doubt the world of man has stayed the same since I had left it."

"But you were tempted too or was I imaging the amount of time you spent here praying to see our sons sailing towards us?"

He twisted around in her embrace and lightly tapped her nose. "Yes I missed them. I had realized that our daughter had chosen to remain behind, but I had hope that our wayward sons would join us after Arwen had passed on. I had forgotten how stubborn they can be."

Celebrian smiled. "It's a stubbornness that they inherited from you. I'm willing to bet that we won't see them for another age yet."

Elrond chuckled. "It not me whom they had inherited their stubborn streak from, my dear, they got _that _from your father."

"Keep telling yourself that. It just _might_ come true."

"Your father hasn't come yet either."

Celebrian sighed and clasped her hands together. "No, he hasn't, but he probably won't come until mother goes and drags him home. She is tempted in doing just that. She misses him."

"It has to be hard on her."

"It is."

Elrond sighed "I'm worried about them."

She sighed and cupped his chin gently. "Then what are you waiting for? I highly doubt Radagast the Brown allowed you to borrow his bird for it to be mere companion."

"I fear they might be dead. I don't think I could handle it if that was proven true. Losing Arwen was hard enough."

"It is high time we find out."

Elrond nodded and raised his left arm and watched as the owl carried his letter away in the night.

* * *

Well, that's it for chapter 6. Like? Hate? Please let me know what you think. I'm going to try to get another chapter out before school starts again. However, if I don't manage it then I'll get a new chapter done and out once I find free time. 

Till next time!


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